


Name: John Doe, Classification: Little

by TheGriefPolice



Series: Classification the Series [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: ADHD, AHDH!tony, Age Play, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Autistic Character, Autistic!Bruce, Bruce Needs a Hug, Caregiver!Phil, Clint Needs a Hug, Everyone Needs A Hug, Gen, Little!Bruce, Little!Bucky - Freeform, Little!Tony, Littles Are Known, Nerodivergent characters, Non-Sexual Age Play, Pepper is a BAMF, Protective Natasha Romanov, Protective Phil Coulson, Protective Steve Rogers, SPD!tony, Sensory Processing Disorder, Shy!Bruce, Tony Needs a Hug, alternate universe - classifications, alternate universe - littles are known, caregiver!Natasha, caregiver!Steve, deaf!Clint, little!Clint, mentions of child abuse, selective mutisum
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2020-05-16 02:26:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 30,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19308751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGriefPolice/pseuds/TheGriefPolice
Summary: Tony was alone. Left by an abusive father at a hospital after a beating so bad, it left his arm shattered, his ribs broken, his head concussed, and his heart—whatever had been left of it—torn to shreds.Steve is a recovering war vet and up-and-coming artist, living in a four-bedroom apartment with his friends and Little. Bucky finds the file of one John Doe and pushes Steve into taking the unnamed Little in.Through pain, tears, and many, many late nights, the learn to believe that maybe the world is an okay place.





	1. Classification: Little

Tony tried not to scream in pain as Howard ripped him from the car by his arm. His severely hurt arm. Tony held back tears as best as he could, but after the beating and the car ride here, he just didn’t have it in him anymore.

“Look here, boy. We’re going in that hospital and you’re not going to say a damn word about anything. Got it.” Howard pushed Tony toward the emergency room entrance harshly as he spoke.

Tony wouldn’t have any issue with being quiet. He hadn’t spoken in over a year. Around the same time that he was classified as a Little and the beatings grew from bad to worse. Tony hadn’t thought it possible, but reality hit him like a brick in the face. 

Tony has somehow managed to walk into the ER and took a seat by the door. Howard yanked down his ball cap and stormed on towards the reception desk. There were a few choice words flown around, some that made Tony cringe and others that made him want to punch Howard in the face. 

Somehow, Howard’s screaming had managed to get Tony a wheel chair. He was pushed into one of the rooms and told to wait with Howard, but given no other instructions. So Tony waited, trying not to let his head lull into the sleep he so desperately wanted. 

Howard was pacing the room, keeping his hat pulled down over his eyes. He looked like he was trying to make a plan, or asses a situation. That’s probably why Tony thought nothing of it until Howard was crouching in front of the chair, his face so close to Tony’s that the smell of alcohol from his mouth was easy to detect. 

“You don’t tell them your name. You don’t tell them my name.” Howard said harshly and suddenly Tony was much more scared. “You are a disgrace on my name, and you will never be anything more than some stupid-ass Little. I can’t have that around anymore.”

Tony looked at Howard, fear coursing through his body. This wasn’t another beating. This was something else. This was entirely different because Tony knew the feeling of another beating.

“You aren’t worth the clothes on your back or the food you eat. No one will ever want you, but at least you won’t be my problem anymore.” And then, Howard was gone from the room. 

Tony waited. And waited. And waited.

-.-.-.-

There were a lot of questions, also of tests, a lot of people, a lot of cameras checked, a lot of identification possibilities takes, but nothing would tell anyone who Howard was or, more importantly, who the Little that was abandoned in the ER was.

Psychologist were called, trying to make the Little talk and answer questions, but he refused. They said that it may be his headspace, that he may be too Little to speak. He didn’t seem to have a grasp on potty training yet, which made him younger that three, but there was no way to officially test unless he spoke. 

Eventually, he was named a John Doe. The state had nothing to go by, and he hadn’t shown up on any record. At the top of the Manila folder was the name and Classification. A picture had been taken, his physical features marked including an estimated age, but nothing else. And then, he was placed in a home for Littles, and put up for adoption.


	2. Decision: Made

Name: John Doe  
Classification: Little  
Physical age: Approx. 18-20  
Headspace age: Approx. <3  
Hair: brown  
Eyes: brown  
Height: 5’4  
Weight: 110lbs  
Other: Selective mute, refuses to speak. Signs of long-term abuse.

Steve looked the file over again and again. The Little boy didn’t look like a John, but Steve supposed it was because that wasn’t his real name. The report was stiff, nothing but formalities.

Steve sighed as he sat the folder down. “I don’t know, I’m not sure I could take on another Little.”

“Steve,” Bucky whined, “He was abandoned in a hospital!”

“I can see that,” Steve said. “And I know you want a Little brother, but I’m just not sure we’d be able to handle someone who needs this much attention and care.”

“Steve, if anyone could give a Little like that attention and care, it’d be you.” Phil chimed in as he walked into the kitchen and sat down on the other side of the island. “Besides, it’s not like you’d be alone. We have a whole support network for a reason.”

Steve let his head sink to the counter as he thought for a moment. When he lifted his head and turned to Bucky, he asked, “How did you find out about him, anyway.”

Bucky’s face grew solum. “I get on the Little adoption sites, sometimes. It keeps things in perspective.” 

“Those homes are fun. Not for anyone who’s a little different.” Clint said as he, too, joined the conversation. “Everyone comes in looking for their perfect Little and ignore anyone who needs a little help.”

Phil’s hand went to rub Clint’s back, and Steve had to take a moment to remember that Clint used to be in one of these homes. 

“Alight, so, say we do take in another Little. How are we going to afford that. We’re barely making ends meet as we are!” Steve said to the group.

And it was true. They were all living pay-check to pay-check. Steve has some money set away, but that was for emergencies only. And Little like this were going to be more than a handful in cost. Diapers, clothes, food, it all costed money. 

“Look, he’s sponsored.” Clint said, pointing to a part of the file Steve had somehow missed. 

“You can do that?” Bucky asked, leaning over to look at the file as well.

Clint nodded. “Agencies will sponsor certain Littles with extra needs to help them get adopted. They’ll pay for medical fees or specialty diets. It’s mostly a marketing ploy or tax write off for the companies that do it, but it does some real good for the Littles that get it. That’s how I got my first set of hearing aides.”

Steve looked up at Clint, amazed at how casually he could mention his time in a place like that after years of not being allowed to watch TV because of the commercials for Little adoption that sent him into panic attacks. 

“Who’s he sponsored by?” Phil asked.

“Stark Industries?” Clint asked, looking up at Steve. “I didn’t know they did sponsorships.” 

“It doesn’t say what the sponsorship is for, or for how long.” Bucky said as his eyes scanned the paper. “That’s weird, they normally do.”

“Well,” Steve sighed, “let’s just think on it. Ask Natasha and Bruce what they think of it.” 

There was a understanding nod from everyone in the room.

“I’m going to make some lunch. Sandwiches sound okay?” Phil said as he stood up and walked over to the stove.

-.-.-.-

“Another Little?” Bruce asked, pushing his glasses up his face. “Could we handle that?”

“He’s sponsored.” Clint said. “And we can all pitch in a help.”

“I’m not sure...” Bruce shrunk down into the couch more, which Steve didn’t think was possible.

“This isn’t something we have to decided on right now.” Steve explained, leaving the file on the coffee table. “But I didn’t want to make a decision like this without asking everyone.”

Steve tried to keep his eyes away from Bruce, but the truth was that Bruce was Steve’s biggest reason for hesitation on bringing another person into the family. Bucky and Clint would warm right up to another Little, but Bruce would take a while longer. He was softer, more reserved.

Bruce was a younger Little, and had come from an abusive situation. Phil has found him on the street. It took a hard push from some of Phil’s buddies to get Bruce’s father arrested and thrown in jail where he belonged. Luckily, getting the man to release his custody over Bruce was much easier.

“Maybe we should sleep on it for a bit?” Steve suggested, eyes focused on the file once more.

The room was quiet for a bit, and then Bruce spoke up.

“I don’t think you should leave him there any longer than he’s already been left.” 

The room all looked up at once, eyes locked on Bruce in confusion. 

“Bruce, are you sure?” Steve asked.

“I know the reason you all are tip-toeing around this is because of me. I’ll be okay. Please don’t leave him there any longer.”

Steve looked up, meeting the eyes of everyone in the room. He closed his eyes and nodded. “Sounds like I’ll be going down there tomorrow morning.”


	3. Little: Obtained

N:JD,C:L3

Tony could hear the footsteps coming closer and he had to resist the need to look and and see who it was. The small window out of the playroom didn’t let anyone really see who was outside, anyway. 

Besides, whoever it was wasn’t there for him. 

He’d seen a lot of Littles go through the Center for Littles, he knew how it worked. A couple would come in, look through the rink window into the playroom, talk for a bit, and then a few Littles would leave the room and come back with smiles on their faces. Eventually, one of them wouldn’t be there for dinner. No one ever asked for him, and no one ever would.

Tony had heard nurses talking, they said he was an uncertain veritable. Nobody knew where he came from, no one knew what he was exposed to. And, because Tony wouldn’t speak, no one even knew his name. He was so used to being called John that he’d sometimes forget it wasn’t his name. But it didn’t matter, Tony was sure he would eventually die in these rainbow-painted walls with upside-down monkeys and roaring lions. 

The footsteps stopped and Tony turned his head ever-so-slightly to the side to catch a man with blond hair peeping through the window. Tony jerked his head back to his toy, scorning himself for looking. He wasn’t about to get his hopes up.

The door to the playroom opened and the Center’s head Caregiver stepped in. 

“John, come here, please.” She said.

Tony’s head jerked up. This must be some kind of curls joke.

“John, I will not ask again.” The woman’s lips pursed.

Tony pushed his toys to the side, glaring at some of the other Littles to let them no not to touch his stuff. He stood up, wobbly on his feat. He hadn’t realized he was that close to headspace, but it didn’t matter.

The Head Caregiver lead Tony through a few halls and then to a room. She pushed the door opened and motioned for Tony to take a step in. Tony did as he was told, then took a seat across from the blond man. 

The man was older than Tony, but not by more than a decade. His blonde hair complimented his bright blue eyes and Tony had a hard time meeting them, as he always did.

“Mister Rogers, this is John.” The Head Caregiver said pleasantly. A guise she must have been putting in.

Tony had been spanked by this woman more times than all the other Caregivers together. 

“Hey, John. I’m Steve.” The man smiled at Tony. 

Tony analyzed the man before him a bit more. He seemed the all-American type, and Tony wasn’t sure what to do with that.

“I have a Little a bit older than you. His name’s Bucky and he’s very excited to have a little brother.” The man smiled as he pulled a small photo album out of his pocket. “This is Natasha, Bruce, Phil, and Clint. They’ll live with us. You’ll have to share a room with Bruce Clint and Bucky when you’re little, but they’ll enjoy the company.”

Tony glanced over the photos, not doing much more than taking a moment to look and moving on. Tony wouldn’t be going with this man, anyway.

“We already have a bed all set up for you. It’s a bit used, but still in good shape. And you’ll have some hand-me-down clothes until we can get you your own.”

The man went on, as if Tony really was going with this man. But Tony knew better. 

Eventually, the man stopped speaking and looked up at Tony with the biggest, goofiest smile. Tony had a hard time not smiling back, which only seemed to make the man smile more.

“When can we take him?” The man asked the Head Caregiver. 

“As soon as you would like once the paperwork is signed.” She responded, that smile that had been forced no longer was.

Tony felt his stomach dropped as he realized what she was doing. Getting rid of Tony would mean room for another Little that would be cuter, louder, more adoptable. Tony doubted they even did a proper background check on the man before he applied. They wanted Tony gone and they didn’t care who took him.

“If you want to follow me, we can get everything filled out.” She said. “Come on, John.”

Tony was too terrified to move, too scared to look either of them in the eye. He was getting tossed away all over again. And he still had no say.

“Maybe he’s just a bit too deep in headspace.” The Head Caregiver suggested.

Tony could stab her if given half a chance because next thing he knew, he was being scooped into the arms of the man.

“That’s okay, we can just walk together, yeah?” 

The man bounced in what should have been a soothing motion but only made Tony panic all the more.

The man held on to Tony as he signed all the paper, asked all the questions, talked about all the extra things.

“And, of course, John’s sponsorship will be in contact with you here soon.” The Head Caregiver said.

“Oh, it’s no rush.” The man smiled, bouncing Tony a few more times before he tucked his half of the papers under his arms and walked out the front door.

Before Tony knew it, he was being strapped into the back of a four door in what must have been a used car seat and driven to whatever new he’ll awaited him.

The Center hadn’t been nice, but it was familiar. This... this was a whole new ballpark. A whole different game. A sick feeling of wanting to go home washed over him, almost making him want to cry. Howard’s house had never been a home, but that’s where all of his things had been. That’s where his entire life had been. Tony hated Howard more than anything, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t still think of that house as his home.

As the man parked the car, Tony was finally met with the realization that he’d never go back there again. Maybe it should have hit me a long time ago, but being in this new place made it all the more real.

The car was turned off, and Tony took in a deep breathe, awaiting the enviable.


	4. Day One: Successful

N:JD,C:L4

It had taken almost two weeks to finally meet the Little, and Steve had to admit that he was surprised by how quickly he was allowed to take John home. It was normal for an adoption to take months. Maybe their apartment had already passed all the background checks because of Phil? Steve wasn’t sure, be he decided to not dive into it too deeply.

Steve was careful to take John out of the car. It had only been a few weeks since the Little got out of his casts and Steve didn’t want to aggravate anything. The Little stood stiffly, looking terrified as Steve pulled him toward the apartment building.

“Hey, it’s okay. We’re just gonna go upstairs. A lot of people are really excited to meet you.” Steve felt his heart clench when that only seemed to make the Little more worried. 

Steve wasn’t sure what he was doing wrong. Even Bruce didn’t seem this scared when they’d first taken him in. He supposed it would just be one of those things that would come with time.

Steve held John’s hand as they walked to the second floor. The Little didn’t seem to like hand-holding, but Steve didn’t have much of a choice. Unless he was to pick the Little up again, which seemed to be less agreeable with him.

Steve unlocked the door and walked into the apartment, hanging his keys on the hook. 

“Hey, guys, I’m back.” Steve announced loudly. He walked into the apartment, trying not to force John in but needing the Little out of the way for the door to close.

Just as Steve had shut the door, two pairs of excited footsteps raced across the apartment and into the entry way.

“Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!” Bucky said, jumping up and down, Clint chorusing with, “Steve! Steve! Steve!”

“Boys, boys, calm down, please. Let him get settled before you surround him.”

Both sets of eyes landed on John, making the Little tuck behind Steve’s back a bit. It was the first “Little” thing Steve recognized from the boy.

Steve walked forward, warning the boys to watch where they step as the walked backwards to give John space and still ask their questions. John, for his part, stuck close to Steve and seemed to be avoiding any contact with the boys. 

“Is he going to stay with us?”

“Is he my brother now?”

“Do I get to sleep on the top bunk now!”

“How old is he?”

“He’s gonna barrow my stuff, right?”

“No! I want him to use mine!”

“Boys, please. Let me get him settled in and then we can talk about all of that, okay?” Steve said, pushing John in front of him as they walked through the living room and toward the bedrooms.

Steve guided John into the Little’s room, pushing the door open. “This’ll be your new room. Like I said, you’ll have to share, but I promise those two aren’t always that overwhelming.”

John just glanced around the room, seeming to take it all in as Steve pulled out a set of clothes.

“This bed is going to be yours. Bucky’s gonna be on the top bunk. And over there,” Steve pointed to the other bunk bed directly across them, “is Bruce on the bottom and Clint in the top.”

Steve wasn’t sure if the Little was taking everything in or was simply too overwhelmed to react to anything. 

“How about we get you changed and then you can meet everyone, hum?” Steve held up one of Bucky’s shirts and a pair of Clint’s shorts after rummaging around in their dressers.

Steve received no answer, which worried him. He sat the clothes down on the bed and kneeled down to look John in the eyes as he said, “Baby, I’m gonna need some response, okay? You don’t have to speak, just a nod of the head. I don’t want to do anything that will make you uncomfy, yeah?”

John stood statue-still for a moment, then two, then three, and finally, he gave a very subtle chin thrust. 

Steve smiled. “That’s a good boy.” He ran his hands through John’s hair, taken aback by the way the Little closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. He filed that way for later, picking the clothes back up.

“Do you want help to change your clothes?” Steve asked again.

It wasn’t too big of a deal if John didn’t want to change at all, but the standard Little shirt and sweatpants form the Center looked cold and formal—two things a Little should never be.

To Steve’s surprise, John nodded his head. Steve smiled. “Alright, we’ll be done in two shakes!”

Steve was quick and gentle to pull off John’s shirt and help him step out of the sweatpants. Soon enough, the Little was dressed in something Steve deemed much more appropriate and lead out into the living room.

Steve crouched down, keeping a hand on the Little’s back as he pointed everyone out and named them, just in case he’d forgotten since the picture session. 

The Little seemed to take them in one at a time, stopping for longer than usual to stare at Phil. Steve wasn’t sure why, but Phil played dumb to the stares and continued to browse through TV channels. 

“You can go play, if you’d like.” Steve suggested. “Or come sit and watch TV with us?”

The Little stood still as ever, eyes scanning but body remaining motionless. Steve hadn’t been expecting that from a Little described the way John had been in his file. Steve had thought the Little would been passive, yes, but that it’d take a long time for him to look away from the ground and interact with the world around him.

Steve had originally wanted to give time to John to settle down before throwing him full-tilt into the craziness of their life. Phil had countered and said it was best to hit the ground rolling so John knew what he was coming rather than surprise him with more and more people. Looking at the Little now, it did seem like the best choice.

“Come play with us!” Bucky called, holding up a toy car. 

Steve smiled over at the boys as they sat up their race track of Janga blocks and legos around the living room. Bruce had taken the far corner for himself, playing on his tablet and avoiding eye contact with everyone in the room as much as possible. Steve couldn’t say he was surprised.

John moved forward, plopping down next to Clint as he pushed around a few of the cars. John didn’t reach for the toys, but he watched every move that was made by the other two boys. 

Steve sat down on the couch, letting out a huff of air. He didn’t know what he was going to do, but somehow, he didn’t care. Steve had never been a big planner, but the idea of uncertainty scared him. John was a wild card, yes,but that didn’t bother Steve at all. But there were so many levels to a person, and even more to a Little. Steve was scared that he’s make something worse or create new and unpleasant things for the boy without even trying. 

Steve took in a breath as he closed his eyes. In the end, John was just a Little that needed time and work. They could manage, just like they had every time before.

The apartment used to just be Steve’s—a gift from an army friend that had been lost in combat. Steve had no idea what he was going to do with the huge amount of room when he was the only one there. And then, one-by-one, came the strays. 

Natasha and Bucky were both ex-military, needing a place to crash after they had been discharged. Natasha had invited Phil to live with them after his house had burnt down and he was left with nothing but an insurance check and the clothes on his back. They had been partners at work and had gotten to know each other pretty well before anything happened. 

Clint had been an accident. A run-away from a Little Center that Phil had somehow caught with pizza. Adopting him was the next logical step. Bruce was the last to join, the stray on the street Natasha had picked up.

And now, they cramped into a four-bedroom apartment. 

Steve amuses himself with the thought that John May actually fit right in with the bundle of crazy that came from the apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not super happy with this one, but it’s nearly a stepping stone chapter to the next one!


	5. My Name: ...

N:JD,C:L5

It had been a week of bedtime stories, warm dinners, play time, and simple and easy life. Tony had no idea what to do with himself. 

He’d been quiet as possible the entire time. Keeping himself reserved and staying away from everything and everyone. He didn’t play with Clint or Bucky, and usually sat across from Bruce in the corner. Tony was surprised when no one seemed to bother him. The Center has been big on “inclusion,” demanding everyone play with each other. But these people didn’t seem to mind at all. They gave him space, something he wasn’t used to.

Tony wouldn’t necessarily call Bruce his friend, but he’s taking a bit of a liking to the Little. He was shy, preferring to keep his knees close to his chest with a tablet balanced across them precariously as he watched videos or played games. Tony had seen other Littles like Bruce, but he’s never seen a Little like Bruce treated the way Bruce was. 

Instead of forcing him to play games, the family was happy to let Bruce play on his tablet or alone in the corner. The other boys—Bucky and Clint—were even told to not go bothering him unless Bruce asked to join their game. This family was completely outside his norms.

The day that things changed for Tony had started as every one before had. Steve woke them up, gently coxing them out of bed. Phil would take over from there, helping the boys get changed and dressed. It was one of Tony’s most hated moments, having to be changed. If he was fully in headspace, he didn’t care, but most of the time he wasn’t fully there and it was awful. Tony has very little say in what his body did at night and that meant he always needed be changed when he woke up. 

After they were all dressed into play clothes, the four of them would be sent into the dining room for breakfast. Simple and easy. But something was also off about that morning. 

It started with Clint at breakfast, the Little pushing away his plate of food with a disgusted face. 

“Don’ like starberries,” Clint scowled at his food as if it had just killed his stuffed monkey.

“Clint, you do like strawberries. You ate them yesterday.” Phil pushed the plate back towards Clint, then returned to his own food.

“No!” Clint whined, pushing the plate away again, this time with more force.

Tony’s eyes were wide open as he sat in his booster next to Bruce. The rest of the tablet seemed to not pay attention to the pair, and Tony was afraid to wonder why.

“Please, Clint. Just eat your food.” Phil pushed the plastic plate back towards Clint again.

This time, with a glare firmly glued to his face, Clint took the plate and threw it on the floor.

Tony’s stomach sank. Why would he do that. He shouldn’t have done that. Now they were going to get mad and he was going to get a beating. Tony hated watching others be beaten because he’d been there. He’d felt that. He’d hated it. And now Tony felt too scared and Little to do anything about it.

Phil stood from his seat, and Tony could see the color drain from Clint’s face. “Little boy, we do not throw our food on the ground.”

Tony’s heart was beating out of his chest when he saw Phil reach down. Tony knew what was coming, terror filling his bones as he slammed his eyes shut and waited for the harsh sound of a slap across the face.

But it didn’t come.

Instead, there was just the screech of wooden chair shifting around a wooden floor and then footsteps. When Tony opened his eyes, it was to the sight of Phil placing Clint in a corner. 

“You will stay there for five minutes. Any movement from that spot will start it again. Any sound will start it again.” Phil reaches toward a bookshelf to pull out a timer. “Five minutes.”

And there Clint sat, his legs crossed and head against the wall. Tony watched and waited for something to happen. Another boot to drop. But it never did.

“Hey, baby, you haven’t touched your food.” Steve said with a tone of concern. “Are you okay?”

Tony never had any issue eating any food placed in front of him. Mostly because he was worried it might be the last food he saw for a while. Howard would do that a lot—control when he ate and how much he got. 

Tony tore his eyes away from Clint to look down at his food. Eggs and toast with jam on it. Tony didn’t like jam on his toast, but he didn’t dare say that. Instead, he picked the triangle up and took a large bite of it. 

“Don’t worry, baby. Clint’s naughty sometimes and that just means he needs some time to think. He’ll be out in a jiff.” Steve smiled.

Tony was taken aback by Steve’s comment. How had the man known what he was thinking?

Sure enough, Clint was out of the corner and crying an apology into Phil’s arms in no time. 

Breakfast was cleaned up and the day moved on.

During their afternoon playtime, Clint had decided he didn’t want his hearing aides in anymore. Tony wouldn’t have a single clue why anyone would want to lose a whole sense when they had the option not to, but Clint kept rubbing at his ears. 

Phil made a comment about the frequency of cleanings the aides get, which earned a groan from Clint, but otherwise too the aides and put them higher up on the shelf.

When Phil turned back, he started flapping his hands around in what looked like a well-practiced way, but Tony didn’t have the faintest idea of what it was. It wasn’t the same as when Bruce would flop his hands, because Bruce’s movements where sporadic with little meaning. This was different.

Clint, in what looked like a response, waved his hands around too before returning to the game he and Bucky had been playing. 

Tony looked on curiously from his corner next to Bruce as Clint and Bucky continued to flip their hands around.

“That’s sign language. If you go over there, Clint and Bucky will teach you.” Bruce said, eyes never leaving his tablet.

Tony looked at Bruce and then back at the pair across the room. 

Phil was the one watching them all today, Natasha having to run to work and Steve having a meeting downtown. Normally, Steve was the one that stayed behind, but it seemed like they traded off a lot. Phil was sitting at the table, laptop out with a notebook at his side. Tony had no idea what he was doing, but he seemed too focused to notice if Tony was to crawl across the room.

Looking at Bruce one last time, making sure Bruce would be okay if he left, Tong started slowly crawling across the floor, making sure he wasn’t making too much noise. No one seemed to notice until Clint looked up and smiled, causing Bucky to turn and jump almost ten feet in the air when he found Tony sitting next to him. 

Clint let out a laugh, almost rolling onto his back as he lifted his feet up. Bucky scowled at Clint before turning to Tony.

“Hi bubby! Do you wanna play?” Bucky reaches for a car and held it out for Tony to take. 

Tony had started to like Bucky, though slowly. Tony wasn’t sure how long this home was going to last before they returned him and he didn’t want to get too attached, but it was just so hard when Bucky was always ready to help and Bruce was so easy to sit by and Clint was crazy with hilarious antics.

Tony reach for the toy, but sat it down and flipped his hands around a bit. Clint giggled and Tony couldn’t help his own little smile.

“Are you okay? Do you need the potty?” Bucky asked, already shifting one leg to stand up.

Tony shook his head, face red. Bucky was always the first to point out when Tony was squirming because he needed to go to the bathroom and Tony had a deep resentment that fought with his deep appreciation. He didn’t want to use diapers all the time, but it wasn’t like he could tell anyone when he needed to go. Bucky had helped a lot. And truth be told, Tong did have to go potty, but that wasn’t why he was sitting next to the other boys. 

Tony flopped his hands around, pointed to Clint, and then flopped again. He looked at Bucky to see if he understood.

“Oh, sign language?” Bucky asked.

Tony nodded his head yes. This was the most he had ever tried to communicate, but the idea of having a real way to do so was more important than how stupid he must look when flipping his hands. He was sick of whining or crying because he was trying to tell them something and they didn’t understand. He would get so frustrated that it would just end in him crying alone in a corner for a while. It hadn’t happened in his new home, but it did a lot at the Center.

“Can you sign?” Bucky asked. 

Tony shook his head no. 

“Do you wanna learn?” 

Tony nodded his head forcefully, crossing his legs and looking between Clint and Bucky. Bucky moved his hands around and whatever he said had Clint smiling like a fool.

“We teach!” Clint smiled.

Tony smiled back, waiting for the two to finished what looked like a conversation before Bucky turned back to Tony and said, “We’re gonna start on really easy ones, okay?”

Tony nodded his head, watching as Clint signed yes and no, pointing to Tony until Tony realized Clint wanted to be copied. Tony followed along as best he could. The movements were unnatural to him, but seemed easy enough to pick up. 

Bucky taught Tony the signs for various family members, starting with dad and going to aunt and uncle, then niece and nephew. After that, Clint waved his hand up and down to grab Bucky’s attention, signed a bit, and Bucky nodded.

“We’re gonna learn the alphabet, okay!” And Bucky went on, singing the alphabet song as he moved to each letter. Tony knew he wouldn’t be able to remember them all right then, but he still enjoyed learning. 

“And once you have your letters, you can tell people your name!” Bucky said expectedly. “Watch!”

“My name B-U-C-K-Y,” Bucky said as he made each sign.

Clint quickly repeated, spelling what must have been his own name, though Tony wasn’t totally sure.

“And then you sign ‘my name J-O-H-N’ just like that.” Bucky smiled, pointed at Tony, asking for him to repeat.

But Tony just looked ahead. 

Tony wasn’t John. Tony wasn’t the Little he’d been at the Center that everyone called John. Sometimes he’d forget, it had been so long since he’d been called his real name, but then something struck him. No one was allowed to tell Tony what he was or wasn’t. Maybe he was a Little, but he wasn’t a dumb one. And Maybe he wasn’t the most useful, but he tried his best a lot. And maybe... maybe he could give them his real name. Just his first name. There are a million Tonys in the world, no one would be able to guess which one he was. So he wouldn’t really be going against Howard’s demands. He’d be himself again, just in a new place. It was a fresh start.

Mind set, Tony shook his head. He copied the signs for “my” and “name”, but then moved to spell what he hoped was his name. He wasn’t sure on the signs, but something seemed to register between the other two as the looked at each other for a moment. 

“Your name’s Tony?” Bucky asked in confirmation. 

Tony smiled with only one side as he gave a curt wave. It wasn’t sign language, but the pair seemed to understand what it meant.

Clint smiled, waving. 

Bucky held out his hand, clearly waiting for Tony to shake. When Tony did, Bucky said, “welcome home, Tony.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, this one was a bit weird to write. I think it turned out a bit awkward, but y’all get the point.
> 
> Thanks for reading and let me know what you think or what you wanna see!


	6. Sponsorship: Accepted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, well, turns out I can’t write 700 word chapters to make them faster, I can only write 2-5 thousand words. Blehhhhhh
> 
> My head just doesn’t stop, y’all... 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!!!

N:JD,C:L 6

Steve tried not to let his exhaustion sink in to his bones, but it was hard to not just give in to temptation. Another therapy session. Another hour of his time wasted trying to explain to people that he wasn’t scared, he was tired. He was sick. He was sad. He was stressed. But when people see “PTSD” all they want to talk about are his fears—where they came from, how they started, how they manifested in his every-day life. 

If he was being honest, Steve didn’t even think he had PTSD, but that’s the label doctors had slapped on him when he got back. But Steve could look around and see that it just wasn’t the same as what the rest of the guys in that facility were going through. But he’d been told to go to a therapist anyway.

Deciding this was just another waste of an hour and already whipping out his phone, he felt a tap on his shoulder. 

“This seat taken?” The man asked, pointing to the one beside Steve.

Steve shook his head, pulling his stuff closer despite it not having been in the way for the man to sit.

“You look like you’ve had a hard day.” The man commented. “No offense.”

Steve cracked a grin. “No, none taken. You’re right. It’s been a long day.”

“Something on your mind?” The man asked.

“Yes and no, I guess.” Steve shrugged as the buss lurched forward, tossing him around in his seat. 

The man reguarded him with a look Steve couldn’t quiet place before asking, “Air Force or Army?”

Steve looked back at the man with confusion plastered to his face. “Army. How did you—“

“I’m Air Force myself. And I know that look.” The man have a small smile, holding out his hand. “I’m Sam, by the way.”

Steve took the hand. “Steve, s’nice to meet you.”

Sam smiled as he reaches into his coat, seeming to look for something. “I know this isn’t usual, but I work as a vet phycologist.” Sam held out a business card. “If you ever need someone to talk to, don’t be afraid to call.”

Steve took the card and looked it over. Sam was legit, his own card and everything. 

“I gotta go, this is my stop. But seriously, call.” Sam slapped the seat in front of them twice before pointing to the card. “We’ll get something worked out.”

Steve nodded, not able to form the words to thank Sam before the man was off the bus and walking down the sidewalk.

Steve looked down at the card once more before pushing it into his coat pocket. He couldn’t help but think about how weird the world was.

When Steve got home, it was to all four boys sitting in the living room, playing some kind of game that required just about every toy they owned. Steve was about to ask why before deciding it didn’t really matter so long as they put all the toys away.

As Steve was hanging his keys on the hook and shucking his jacket off, realization his him like a brick to the face.

All four boys were playing. Together. In the living room. All four of them.

Steve looked back into the living room to make sure what he was seeing was right. Sure enough, the boys were still there. A smile about a mile wide spread across Steve’s face as he looked towards where Phil was sitting on the couch, legs propped up on a pillow and head resting on the arm as he flipped through his phone.

“Phil,” Steve tried to whisper-yell, hoping it was enough for Phil to hear and not the boys. Luckily, it was, according to Phil’s head snapping up.

Steve waved his hand, silently asking for Phil to come over.

Phil rolled his eyes but obliged, letting his feet fall to the floor and setting his phone aside. He whispered something to the boys then walked toward Steve.

“Are they all playing together?” Steve asked in a whisper.

Phil nodded with a smile. “Kinda. But there’s something you need to see first.” 

Steve looked on skeptically and Phil walked back into the living room and announced, “Bucky, your daddy’s home!”

Bucky’s head shot up, eyes locking in Steve instantly. Bucky was up in a flash, darting across the room and tackling Steve in a hug. Steve laughed as he squeezed Bucky tightly.

“Hey, buddy. Did you have fun?” Steve asked once Bucky had let go.

“Uh huh!” Bucky hummed. “Daddy, come’ere come’ere come’ere!”

Bucky dragged Steve along until they were standing right in front if the three other Littles.

“Show him what you can do!” Bucky said, waving his hand toward John. 

John looked up skeptically, looking back at Clint, then at Bucky, and finally back at Steve.

“Come on, you can do it!” Bucky encouraged.

Steve was very confused. Bucky wasn’t typically a hyper Little unless he was very, very excited. Steve looked over to Phil for a moment, surprised to see the man smiling as he leaned against a wall with his arms crossed.

Steve looked back at the boys just in time to see John sign “My name T-O-N-Y.”

Steve smiled brightly. “Good job, buddy! But I think you got a few mixed up. John is spelt—“ Steve started to sign when Bucky cut him off.

“No, Daddy. His name’s Tony.” Bucky said, yanking on Steve’s shirt sleeve. “His name’s Tony.”

Steve looked back at the Little in confusion until he remembered that he didn’t have any information anywhere. The Little has just been abandoned without anything—not even his name. The state had given him the name “John Doe” for simplicity’s sake. Steve was almost made sick by the though of a Little not even able to tell anyone his own name. He’d gone by John for months now, having to respond to something that had no meaning to him. 

A thought popped into his head as he looked at the Little for a moment. He looked nothing like a John. The dark curls and honey eyes just didn’t resonate with that name. Tony, however, fit just perfect. A strong name for a strong Little. 

Steve kneeled to the ground, holding out his arms. He wasn’t surprised when the Little didn’t run to him, but was a bit disappointed. All the same, he said, “Welcome home, Tony.”

And then Steve saw the most magical of things happen. Tony smiled. Really smiled. With his teeth showing and eyes squinting, a small giggle leaving his lips. It was a welcome difference to the Little’s normal stoic look.

When Natasha walked through the door an hour later, Steve was still sitting on the couch, watching Tony and Bruce interact. They weren’t really playing whatever game Bucky and Clint had made up, but they were sitting next to everyone as they played a game on Bruce’s tablet.

“Hey, mail’s here,” Natasha said as she walked in. 

Bruce looked up at the sound of her voice, smiling as she came into sight. 

Natasha handed Steve the mail as she scooped Bruce into her arms. 

“Hey, big boy! Are you playing with everyone, huh?”

Steve smiled at Natasha’s coos as he looked through the mail. Bill, bill, bill, trash, a birthday party invite, bill. Steve stopped when he saw a letter from Stark Industries via the Center for Littles. Steve sat the rest of the mail on the side table as he leaned forward to look closer at the Center’s letter. It was thick, almost over stuffed, and Steve was hesitant to open it.

“What’s that?” Natasha asked as she sat Brice back down with a kiss to his head.

“Not sure.” Steve answered, picking up the other mail once more as he stood up. He walked over to the dinning room table next to Phil. Steve sat the mail on in the chairs before holding up the letter to Phil.

Phil grabbed it skeptically. “What’s this?”

“I don’t know. A letter from the Center?” Steve answered.

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Just open it and we can stop asking dumb questions.”

Steve gave Natasha a playful glare as Phil tore at the side of the letter. Phill pulled out stack of papers that looked like it shouldn’t have fit in the envelope at all.

“‘Regarding the sponsorship of John Doe’. Formal and simple. I can appreciate that.” Phil said before handing the papers over to Steve.

“I almost forgot he was sponsored.” Natasha said as she leaned forward to watch Steve unfold the papers and flip through them. 

“I’m not sure what half of this junk says.” Steve shook his head as he scanned several of the pages. “Looks like a hush-hush contract. Look, here it says ‘I agree that no information about the sponsorship or receiver will be mentioned outside of immediate family.’ Someone doesn’t want people to find out who John—Tony— is.”

“It could also be for his protection.” Phil chimed in. “I wouldn’t want anyone knowing where Clint is.”

Steve nodded in agreement, turning another page and stopping dead. “Woah.”

Phil and Natasha leaned in, both as equally shocked. 

“Woah indeed.” Phil said as he turned the paper toward himself. “That’s a lot of money for a sponsorship.”

“That’s a lot of money for anything. His yearly stipend is easily more than I make in a year.” Natasha scoffed. “What are the conditions?”

Phil flipped to the next page and read allowed. “Stipend will be deposited bi-weekly to Caregiver. The Caregiver agrees to spend at least fifty-percent on needed amenities which include but are not exclusive to housing, food, and clothes.’ and then it stays, ‘The caregiver agrees that all funds will be exclusive to immediately family only and will not be shared with anyone outside the household.’”

“So the condition is that the money be spent on the family?” Natasha asked in awe. “I’ve never seen any kind of sponsorship like this. Even if it’s only for a year, that’s an insane amount we’d be able to save from our own checks.”

“Guys,” Phil said, holding up the paper and pointing to a line. “This is for his entire life.” 

“No way in hell.” Natasha said as she snatched at the paper to read for herself. 

“Wasn’t Clint’s only for the first three months?” Steve asked

Phil nodded. “And even then, it was medical bill only. It helped pay for his implant surgery.”

All three caregivers sat back in their chairs, starring at the letter.

“Can you all imagine how much this would help us out?” Steve said as he threaded fingers through his hair. “No more struggling to make ends meet, no more overtime so we can eat, nothing.”

“We could do more than that.” Phil said as he sat forward, tapping on the table. “We could get out of this tiny apartment. We could rent a bigger one, or even rent a house up-state.”

“We could get the kids new furniture, maybe they could have their own rooms. And we could get a new couch!” Natasha laughed. “This could really change some things.”

The three caregivers looked back and forth between each other and Steve couldn’t help the excitement building in his stomach. Partly because of the sponsorship, and partly because he could look over and see his Littles—HIS LITTLES—smiling at a friend in a place they called home. He could give them a better life. Something more than his military check or measly art sales could ever offer.

Steve looked back at the contract, reaching for Phil’s pen as he asked, “Where do I sign?”


	7. Comfort: Accepted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We got a lot of Tony feels in this one, y’all. Grab some tissues and hold on tight!

N:JD,C:L 7

Tony was noticing differences around the apartment after the night he told everyone his real name. He couldn’t tell what, exactly, was different, but it was there. 

Two weeks after that eventful day, Tony sat in his usual spot next to Bruce in a corner of the living room, watching Bucky and Clint argue over how they wanted to build their city for maximum cool-ness. Phil and Steve had been working on packing things away the past few days, labeling each box carefully before carrying it out to who-knows-where. Most of the living room had been placed in boxes already and they had started on the kitchen. All of the movement was sending Tony’s stomach in a whirl.

“Hey boy’s,” Phil said as he walked into the living room, phone in hand, “can you clean up your toys, please?”

“Noooo~” Clint whined, plopping down on his butt. “The game isn’t over yet!”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but we’ve got a surprise for you all and Steve’s gonna be here soon to take you all to it.” Phil pushed his phone into his pocket and kneeled down. “Would you like some help?”

Clint pouted, but Tony could tell he was more intrigued by the surprise than upset about his game being cut short. 

“Bucky, could you pack a set of clothes for you and your brother into a backpack?” Phil asked as he picked cars out of the pile of Legos.

“Uh-huh!” Bucky was quick on his feet to run towards their room and Tony could hear as drawers were yanked open. 

Bruce looked up from his tablet, sharing a look with Tony. Tony shook his head and shrugged his shoulders but tucked himself into a tighter ball. 

What if the surprise was that they were returning Tony because they didn’t like him anymore. Howard said Tony was too Little and too annoying for anyone to ever want to be around him. Maybe Howard was right. Tony was unloveable and no one ever wanted to be around him, that’s why he was left alone in the hospital. That’s why he was hurt so much. It was the only thing he was ever useful for.

“Hey, hey, Tony, sweetheart?”

Tony was shocked out of his thoughts by the sound of Steve’s voice. Tony looked up to see Steve crouching in front of him, a look of concern making Tony confused.

“May I pick you up?” Steve asked.

It wasn’t the first time Steve had asked Tony that question, but the Little was still floored by it. Steve was the only person Tony had ever known that asked Tony if he was okay with being touched. The Center would just lift him whenever was useful, they didn’t care about what Tony was comfortable with. 

Tony had thought it was all a ruse—something to lure him into some kind of security before they ripped it out from under him. Tony wasn’t about to fall for it, so he shook his head no the first time. To Tony’s utter surprise, Steve had just said that was okay and let it be. Tony was floored by the action, but Steve wasn’t the only one who did it. Natasha would ask Bruce the same thing and always respect his answer. Phill had picked up that Steve was asking Tony and had started doing it for both boys and Tony’s head just couldn’t wrap around it.

He didn’t always say no, because sometimes he was just too tired to make it to bed on his own or he couldn’t get in or out of the bathtub, but he always turned it down when he was upset. But this time, Tony hesitated before he answered. 

Tony had lived with them for almost a month now. He considered Bruce his best friend, and it was getting harder to not think of everyone as his family. The idea that it may all be over twisted every emotion in him. They were the nicest people he’s ever met and they always fed him and took him to the potty if he needed to go and never got mad if he had an accident. They were quick to change him in the mornings and he hadn’t had a rash at all since he got there. 

It wasn’t very often Tony had a twist in his stomach so bad he wanted some help, but with everything moving around and the idea that everything may be gone tonight, Tony held out his arms as a sob escaped.

Steve was quick to pick him up, rocking Tony back and forth gently with a soft pat on his back. The whole time, Steve just whispered that it was okay. That Tony was okay. To let out all the tears and upset. It was okay.

The words only made Tony cry more, clinging to Steve’s shirt as he stained it with tears. Tony wanted to believe the words, every single one, but he wasn’t sure he could. He wasn’t sure he fully trusted anything. But Steve was warm and solid and soft and Tony couldn’t believe how much the arms around him made him feel safe and loved. In Steve’s arms, Tony felt like nothing could ever touch or hurt him. It was a new feeling that Tony didn’t think he could ever let go of.

“Daddy!” Bucky said as if he was trying to whisper but failed and made it more of a shout. “Here!”

Tony cracked his eyes open just enough to see Steve take something from Bucky’s hand.

“Aw, buddy, thank you so much. Such a good big brother!” Steve ruffled Bucky’s hair and Bucky seemed to preen under it. “Can you grab a few of Tony’s diapers and put them in his bag for me?”

Bucky gave an “uh-huh” as he ran back to the room. 

Steve gave Tony a few more motions before shifting Tony higher on his hip.

“Hey baby, lets try this, huh?” Steve held something out and Tony could feel it brush against his lips.

Tony opened his eyes to see a pacifier being offered to him. Tony had never really had a pacifier because Howard said that we’re disgusting and the Center didn’t see any need to give one to a Little that never opened his mouth in the first place. Tony had something tell him it was okay to take, an unconscious trust buried in his stomach that knew Steve would never do anything to hurt him. 

So Tony let his mouth crack open between tears telling Steve that it was okay to put the pacifier in his mouth. Tony tucked his face back into Steve’s shirt, giving the new object a few test sucks. It was a weird feeling against his face, but something about it made him not want to spit it out. 

Howard had yelled away Tony’s want to put things in his mouth years ago. The pacifier seemed to fill a familiar hole, letting Tony roll it over his tong and chew on it a bit. 

“There we go, a bit better now, huh?” Steve cooed as he rocked a few more times. 

Tony snuggled in a bit more, letting his head fall in Steve’s shoulder and eyes flutter shut. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been crying but it felt like it had been a long time. Now he was just tired and his sinuses hurt too much to lift his head.

“What was up?” Natasha asked as she gently ran a hand up and down Tony’s back in a way that had Tony preening.

“I’m not sure. Could be a lot of things. There’s been a lot going on lately.” Steve replied.

Tony would have nodded his head but he was too tired to even try. 

“I’m sure a nap won’t hurt.” Natasha chuckled. “Speaking of which, Brucie, may I pick you up?”

Tony didn’t hear much after that, too warm and tired to fight the pull of sleep.

When Tony woke up, it was to a sudden jolt. His eyes popped open as he scanned everything, panicking because he couldn’t figure out where he was. 

“Tony, look!” Bucky said, pulling Tony’s eyes towards the other Little.

Bucky was pointing out the window to something Tony didn’t recognize at first, but then saw was a car painted like a lady bug. 

“Isn’t that cool!” Bucky smiled.

Tony nodded as he rubbed at his eyes and yawned. Right, they were in Steve’s car. Going somewhere for a surprise. But Tony was still feeling lethargic, even after his initial panic.

“Bucky, did you wake up Tony?” Steve said with a firm voice from the front of the car.

Tony suddenly remembered how he had cried into Steve’s chest before he fell asleep and felt a blush across his face. He was embarrassed about how clingy he’d been, but also about how clingy he still felt. Tony had to stifle his want to whine until Steve was holding him again. He’d never been clingy before, but all he could think about right then was a hug.

“But, Daddy, the car...” Bucky said, trying to defend himself.

“I asked you to let him sleep, Bucky.” Steve responded. “We’ll talk about this later, but there will be repercussions for not listening to instructions.”

Bucky looked like he was about to cry and Tony didn’t want him to. 

Tony looked around, finding himself strapped in to a car seat he hadn’t seen before. The only thing he had was a blanket across his lap and something strapped to his shirt. Tony heart twisted when he saw it was a pacifier because that meant the only things he had to give to Bucky were a warm blanket and a comforting pacifier—both of which Tony liked. Tony looked over to Bucky and took in a breath as he made his decision. He would miss it, but that didn’t stop Tony as he tired to pull at the pacifier clip. His hands weren’t working well and Tony couldn’t figure out the snap. Worried, Tony reached over to Bucky and gave his arms a few pats. When Bucky turned, Tony yanked at the pacifier in Bucky’s direction.

“Baby Tony, you don’t have to give me your binkie. I’ve got my own, see!” Bucky help up a pacifier he’d been holding in his hand.

Tony let out a small smile, happy that he didn’t have to give away his pacifier. Tony looked down at his lap, picking at his blanket to hold up a corner and offer it to Bucky.

“I’ve got a blankie, too, look!” Bucky held up a blanket that Tony had seen many times before when ever Bucky was sad or tired. Steve always got it for Bucky to hold on to. 

“Alright boys, we’re almost there! Are you excited?” Steve asked as he turned the car. 

Bucky let out a gleeful squeal and kicked his feet a bit. Tony didn’t even notice that he copied Bukcy in his actions. 

A few minutes later and Tony felt the car rumble to either side as they pulled in to a driveway. Tony looked over to Bucky, somewhat relieved to see that he was just as confused about what was going on. 

Steve got out of the car, opening the door to Tony first, unstrapping Tony from the seat and lifting him out. Tony looked up at the house in confusion. There wasn’t anything special about it. 

Steve sat Tony down, telling him to stay put as he pulled Bucky from the car. Another car pulled in behind Steve’s, producing Natasha and Phil from the front seats and Clint and Bruce from the back.

When everyone was out of their cars, Steve lead everyone up the front steps and opened the front door. Tony had to hold himself back from asking Steve to pick him up, settling on holding hands.

Tony watched as Bucky, Clint, and Bruce all looked just as confused as he felt as the walked in to the empty entry way. 

The room wasn’t very big, but it was bigger than the one in the apartment. The carpet looked nice and clean, soft under their feet compared to the hard wood of the apartment. Tony crouched down whilst still holding on to Steve to run his hand through the carpet. It was soft and fluffy and Tony just wanted to roll around in it. Before Tony got the chance, however, Steve was walking.

They were lead through a dinning room and into a kitchen which lead to another two rooms on the other side. Then they went up the stairs. Tony was confused when he saw one of the upstairs doors marked with his and Bruce’s name in sparkly letters.

Tony looked up at Steve in confusion, only to get a smile in return. 

“Hey, baby, lets keep out fingers out of our mouths.” Steve gently tugged on Tony’s hand which the Little hadn’t even noticed he was chewing on. Tony glared at his hand got a moment before something was gently held in front of him. Looking up, Tony smiled as he took his new binkie in his mouth. That’s what Bucky had called them and it sounded right.

“Daddy, why are our name’s on those doors?” Bucky asked, pointing to the door that had his and Clint’s name across it. 

Tony could see Steve and Phil share a smile before Phil said, “I’m not sure. Why don’t you all go check it out.”

Clint was instantly after the door, Bucky chasing closely behind. Steve walked over the the door, Tony following with Phil and Natasha right behind.

Tony’s eyes went wide as he looked at the room. It was a mid-shade blue with white curtains over the windows. On either side of the room sat a wood framed bed with drawers worked into the frame. The bed on the far wall had a comforter with characters from a show Tony knew Bucky was obsessed with but couldn’t remember the name of. Something about gemstones that had a lot of light and floaty music. On the near wall was a bed with a purple quilt across it and a stuffed owl pillow by the headboard.

Bucky and Clint were screaming their heads off as they ran around the room, picking up toys and stuffed animals from toy bins.

Tony laughed as Bucky ran up to him with a new toy RC car saying they should play later, but a dull ache hurt his chest. Clint and Bucky had their own room tailored just to them. Tony would never get that.

“Wait, Daddy,” Clint stopped, looking over at the door, “why do we have a room in an empty house.”

“Ah, my little bird, perceptive as ever.” Phil crouched down, holding his arms out to Clint for a hug. “But let’s let Bruce and Tony see their room first.”

Tony perked up, just then remembering the other door.

Tony looked at Bruce who was still being carried by Natasha. She sat him down, however, when Tony looked up.

“Come on, then!” Natasha said as she walked with Bruce towards the door. Tony followed with a tight grip on Steve’s hand. When they reached the door, Steve prodded for Tony to push the door open.

Tony did as he was asked and held his eyes closed tightly as the door squeaked open. The sound of Bruce’s gasp made Tony open his eyes to take the room in.

The room had a similar layout to Clint and Bucky’s room, with a bed on either side, except the beds were cribs. The nice kind made from wood with quick-release latches. Nothing near what the Center had with metal bars and locks that were so rusted they wouldn’t open without a spray of WD-40 and a smack to the side.

Between the beds and right by the window was a changing table with matching wood and stain that had a fluffy white top and shelves with drawers. A few toys had been placed around and Tony watched as Bruce ran to one, pinching it between his fingers before picking the toy up and squeezing it tightly to his chest.

Tony took a few steps into the room before noticing what must have been Bruce’s bed if at all told by the many flease blankets that lined it. Bruce loved all things made in that fabric, but Tony couldn’t stand it. It always seemed to pull at his skin, as if sanding it. When Tony turned to face what must have been his bed, he wasn’t sure what his reaction was because he was a mix of so many emotions he couldn’t even stand up on his own.

He fell to the floor, hard sobs escaping as he looked at the crib done up with bright red quilt and matching pillow, along with more pillows against the back of the crib. His name was written in red glitter letters above the crib and Tony didn’t know how to handle everything. He didn’t understand anything that was going on.

“Tony, baby, may I pick you up?” Steve asked.

This time, Tony didn’t bother to nod, holding his arms up for Steve. The Caregiver sent Tony a soft smile before picking him up and holding him tightly. 

Tony couldn’t understand who would ever be this nice to a Little as annoying as Tony was because Howard had told him it was impossible. But here he was in a room made just for him and he didn’t understand. 

“Why’s baby Tony crying?” Tony heard Bucky ask.

“I think he’s just a bit overwhelmed,” Steve replied, rocking back and forth on his feet. Tony felt something brush against his lips and he wasn’t surprised to find his binkie in front of him when he opened his eyes. He must have lost it whilst gaping at the room. Tony latched on and tucked his head into Steve’s chest, just like he had earlier that day. Steve was so warm.

“But the real reason we’re here,” Phil said once Tony’s sobs faded to small sniffling, “is so you all can see our new home.”

The room stood silent for a moment and Tony almost had to cover his ears because of it. He didn’t understand why, but silence just made him uneasy and the empty ringing in his ear made him want to cry again.

“This floor?” Clint asked. 

Tony looked up to see Phil smile as he shook his head. 

“No, buddy, the whole thing. All of it is our home now.” Phil ran a hand through Clint’s hair with a smile so strong it almost looked like he was going to cry.

“Welcome home, everyone!” Phil said when he stood up, grunting as he was tackled into a hug.

“No more apartment?” Bruce asked.

Natasha leaned down, making bunny kisses as she said, “no more apartment. This is our home now. Forever.”

Tony looked up for a moment, looking around at the people he was finding no trouble in calling family. Cause that’s what they were. A family.

“Welcome home, baby boy.” Steve said as he kissed Tony’s forehead.

Tony wiggled, trying to scoot closer to Steve even if it wasn’t possible. Tony couldn’t say it back, but maybe Steve would understand. A tight hug told Tony that Steve had.

“Alright, rascals, we got some unpacking to do, okay?” Phil said as he clapped his hands. “Let make this place a home!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this came off as cute as I was trying to make it! Everyone's been so amazing with feedback and I absolutely love it all! Thank you so much!


	8. Backstory: Unlocked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aight, so this chapter has a lot going on, but I hope you all enjoy!

N:JD, C:L 8

It took all day to move most of the upstairs in and Steve was exhausted. He felt like he could plop down on his bed and be out for the next ten hours, but there was still a lot to go. Not to mention the kids.

The boys had mostly been playing in their new rooms whilst Phil and Natasha brought in the living room furniture. When that was finished, Clint and Bucky were down the stairs like they were running from the cops. Bucky greeted Steve with a quick “hi, dad,” as he ran by, telling the Caregivers they were big at the moment.

Buck and Clint were hardly ever big, but it did happen once or twice a month. It made sense that they were feeling a bit older today with all of the moving. Too much excitement and things to move to stay Little.

Clint and Bucky helped unpack some of the necessities for the living room until they found their gaming system and became a lost cause. 

Steve was too tired to chase the boys down and ask for more help, deciding it wasn’t that big of a deal if they just wanted to have a soda and play a video game in a different room. They typically behaved well enough when they were Big, but Steve always had a sense for when they were looking for trouble. 

As Steve set a box in the dinning room with a huff, he looked around at the mostly put-together living room, sans-the couch and other furniture. It was starting to kind of look like a home if you ignored the cardboard boxes and desk lamps everywhere. When the sound of a plate crashing to the floor sounded out, followed by a fowl word from Phil, Steve decided it was time for a break. 

“I’m going to go check on the young’ns.” Steve announced as he walked toward the stairs.

“Don’t take too long! We’ve got the movers coming with the heavy stuff here soon!” Phil shouted back.

Steve rolled his eyes as he took the last few steps then turned left toward the boys’s rooms. They were lucky to somehow find a five bedroom house, which meant the boys didn’t all have to share and the Caregivers still got their own rooms.

Steve cracked the door open to Tony and Bruce’s room to find both boys still asleep in their beds. Steve stood in the doorway, leaning against the door frame as he looked on. Peeling his eyes away from Tony just felt impossible. His face was so soft as he slept, even with the tear tracks still staining his cheeks. The warm feeling that bubbled in Steve’s chest was so strong that he wouldn’t be able to describe it with all the words in the world. Tony had reached out for comfort for the first time since he got here. 

Steve always asked if Tony wanted to be picked up if the Little looked upset, but the offer was always turned down. Tony seemed to like being on his own when he had sad feelings. Steve’s heart broke to watch the Little cry in the corner of the living room, but he knew that only time would heal the wound that made Tony so reluctant to being held. And, after a month of waiting, it had finally happened. Tony had said yes and curled right into Steve’s chest as he cried, holding tight to Steve’s shoulders. And, though it hurt that Tony was so upset, it made Steve ecstatic to hold his Little and comfort him. 

When Bucky ran up with one of his binkies, Steve hadn’t expected Tony to take it, but still offered in a hope that he may. Tony has started at it for a moment before letting Steve press it forward. Like a switch, Tony was suddenly quiet, tears still running down his red face as he sucked away at the binkie. Steve knew he was going to get more of those. And then Tony was asleep on his shoulder, overtired and seemingly-happy to be held just like any other Little. 

Steve had considered it some kind of one-time deal, until they were showing the boys their rooms and Tony broke down in tears on the floor. Steve barely had time to ask his question before Tony’s arms were reaching for him, begging to be picked up. Steve didn’t hesitate, pulling Tony right up and snuggling him close. It was a surreal moment when Steve realized Tony had fallen asleep again on his shoulder. And then Steve got to put the baby down in a real bed and tuck him in, Bruce right across the room as Natasha put him down for a nap.

Seeing the boys in cribs filled his heart to the breaking point. There just wasn’t room in the apartment for the younger two to have their own crib, so Natasha had to settle on getting a side guard for Bruce. Steve repeated the process when Tony came around, obviously too young to be left without one when he fell out of bed on the second night. 

It had taken the three Caregivers several days to purchase, build, and decorate for the boys, but the boys’ reactions made everything worth it. Even if it had resulted in a second breakdown for Tony. For some reason, Tony just seemed on-edge all day. Steve thought it may just be that he was overwhelmed, but now he was thinking that maybe it was something else. 

The Little jumped at any sudden noise, which Steve had assumed was due to abuse but seemed to be mixed with a kind of anxiety. Then there were the clothes that Tony would wear and pull at all day, yanking the collar as if to make it stretch or pulling at the front so it wouldn’t touch his chest. Tony never said or indicated anything, but Steve could see it. 

Maybe it was autism, Steve thought. It wouldn’t really be surprising, and the family knew how to work with autistic Littles because of Bruce. They needed a little extra awareness, but were nothing different from any other Little. 

In reality, Steve knew he didn’t care. It didn’t matter if Tony was autistic because he was still Tony. He was quiet and reserved, but seemed to be coming out of his shell every day. Today had been an extraordinary step, and Steve just hoped he didn’t do anything to mess it up. It seemed that he didn’t, if Tony falling asleep whilst Steve was holding him was taken as evidence. 

“Steve!” 

Shaking his head, Steve was pulled out of his thoughts by someone yelling his name from downstairs. With one last look at the sleeping boys, Steve left the door cracked open and walked down to the front entryway.

Clint stood at the door, looking at Steve with a curious look.

“Clint, you know better than to open the door to people you don’t know.” Steve chastised. “That can be dangers.”

“You’ve got someone that wants to talk to you.” Clint said in a harsh whisper.

“Don’t think we’re done talking about this.” Steve said sternly. “Go play with Bucky.”

“We’re not playing! We’re Big! We fight!”

Steve rolled his eyes and opened the door as Clint sulked off. A young woman stood on the porch with bright red hair shining in the sunlight and an expensive-looking pantsuit framing her body. 

“Good afternoon,” Steve said as he held the door, confused as hell.

“Good afternoon. I’m Virginia Pots from Stark Industries and I’m here to talk about John Doe’s sponsorship. May I come in?”

Steve stood shell-shocked for a moment before all of the words registered and he opened the door wider. “Yes, of course.”

Ms Pots stepped into the entryway, leaving Steve space to close the door.

“Uh, excuse the mess. Still in the process of moving.” Steve said as he walked through the living room and toward the dining room where a card table was taking had been set up as a temporary kitchen table. Steve pulled a chair out on one side before taking his own seat on the other.

“I can see.” Ms Pots said as she took the offered chair. She sat a thick folder in the table, pulling out several papers and placing them around. 

“I’m sorry, what is this about? I thought everything was properly filed. Did we miss something?” Steve asked as he looked over the papers on the table.

Ms Pots took out one last folder before looking up at Steve. “Before I can tell you anything, I need you to sign this form.”

Steve looked at the paper she was pointing to, shocked to see a full disclosed agreement with “Information will never leave the three Caregivers in household” in bright red letters.

“Woah, I’m sorry, what?”

“Mr Rogers, there are somethings that are best to not be put in this world. However, some of them need to be shared to ensure that everyone is getting properly taken care of.” Ms Pots said firmly. “What I say is only for the people in this house right now. It is for your safety, and John’s.”

Steve’s heart rate picked up, but he tried to hold steady. “What kind of things?”

Ms Pots pointed to the form. “Signiture first, and then we may talk.”

Steve took in a deep breath, praying to any holy being above that he wasn’t signing away his life as he scribbled his name on the form.

“Good. Now, before we start, you need to know this,” and Pots opened the last folder she had pulled out and set its contents on the table one at a time.

Steve had to hold back his initial anger from seeing photos of his family blown up on eight and a half by elevens. A family dinner, the boys in the living room, one of each Caregiver walking to work or appointments. 

“What the hell—“

“Mr Rogers, I am showing you these as an explanation and a precautionary. This information cannot leave this household.”

Steve gulped back his anger, clenching his jaw. “Let’s get on with it, then.”

Ms Pots nodded, gathering the photos and putting them back into her bag. “We have been watching your family only to see if we could trust you with this information. We did not want to make any mistakes. 

“The Little you have adopted was the biological son of someone very important in our company. That person has done terrible things and will get his due soon enough, but he did one right thing. He left the Little you know as John in that hospital.”

“Woah, what? Him being left alone for seven months was the right thing to do?” Steve asked harshly, trying to keep his voice down because Clint and Bucky were still running around the house.

“You know better than anyone the state he was in when he got to that hospital. It was better for him to be anywhere than near the person that did that. 

“I have been following him as best I could but I lost him for a month when he was moved from the healthcare center to the one you adopted him at. The Centers are terrible places, but still not as bad as where he came from. And then you found him.”

Steve nodded, unsure of the mix of emotions rolling around in his gut—anger, sorrow, vengeful—none of which he could act on. So he nodded his head and let her continue.

“I waited a week before sending you the letter about his sponsorship. I needed to know if he was in a safe place. But I saw the way you and your friends look after and treat your Littles and I knew that you would be perfect for him. A week later, you received that letter. 

“I knew I had made the right choice again when the first thing you did after finding out there would be a bit more money coming your was to buy a house. This house. And the first rooms your decorated were for your Littles. All of which came out of your own pockets and savings, not touching the first check you had been sent. 

“And now, I believe it is time for a bit of truth about the Little you know as John.”

Steve sat back in his seat, trying for casual but feeling tense. “My family is a good family, and we look after each other. I wouldn’t have gone against that contract to save my life. That money if for the boys, not us.”

Ms Pots smiled at him, something soft and sweet. An absolute offset from the firm look she had at first. “I know, Mr Rogers. I can tell.”

Steve turned and looked as Clint ran through the dinning room, Bucky following close behind. “Boys, no running in the house! You know better.”

Two soft “sorries” sounded off, followed by softer steps.

Steve chuckled. “They’re a bit worked up from the move, sorry about that.”

“It’s okay. I know how Littles can be some times.” Ms Pots reached for another piece of paper and held it out to Steve. “These are what is most important for you to know.”

Steve looked down at the sheet, trying not to worry about all of the parts that were redacted. “Medical records?” Steve asked as he looked up.

Ms Pots nodded. “The Little you know as John is actually named Anthony—Tony for short. I can’t give you his last name, I’m sorry, but I wanted you to know what it was safe to tell.”

Steve nodded. “He told us a few weeks ago.” 

“He spoke?” Me Pots asked, eyes wide.

“Oh, no, sorry. One of our Littles is partially deaf and taught Tony a bit of sign language. I was confused at first, but he seemed so genuine it was hard to not trust him when he said his name was Tony.”

“That’s still amazing,” Ms Pots smiled. “There were a lot of hardships when he stopped talking. I truly believe it frustrates him more than anyone else. He used to be so talkative.”

Steve watched as Ms Pots closed her eyes as if holding on to a memory for a moment before opening her eyes and letting it go.

“What happened?” Steve asked. He didn’t think he’d get another chance.

“He got too excited talking about something and... well, his care taker at the time didn’t want to tolerate it. I wasn’t there, but I know it wasn’t a pleasant encounter.” Ms Pots sighed. “But enough about that. We cannot change the past, but I can help you change his future.”

Steve nodded, glancing over the sheet in his hand once more. “He has ADHD?” Steve asked, although, now that he thought about it, it did make sense. Tony was very easily distracted and seemed lost in his own head a lot. The Caregivers has just summed it up to be one of his traits and never thought anything about it. Steve hadn’t really seen the hyper part yet, but he hoped that, one day, he would. “And SPD? What’s that mean.”

“Sensory Processing Disorder.” Ms Pots explained. “It means that he’s sensitive to certain sounds, textures, flashing lights, things like that. Nothing to be worried about, it will just take some extra attention to what’s around to make sure he’s not too overwhelmed. It’s common in individuals with ADHD.”

Steve nodded. That made a lot of things connect in Steve’s head, but he set that train of thought aside for a moment to think about later.

“A heart murmur?” Steve felt stupid asking questions.

“Nothing serious, but it does prohibit the use of medication to treat his ADHD symptoms.” 

The medical file held little other information other than a small allergy to pollen and a few times he had gone in whilst sick.

Ms Pots walked through some of the other papers which included some school records, a review of his mental state from when he was in the hospital, a different one from a when he went mute, and a few other things. 

When they were finishing up, Ms Pots packing things into a folder and handed it over to Steve and standing up.

Holding the folder in his hands, Steve couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Should we be hiding?”

Ms Pots looked taken aback. “Hiding from what?”

“For the person that did all of this to Tony, his old care taker.” Steve clarified.

Ms Pots lips went thing for a moment. “Mr Rogers, I am both terrified and relieved to inform you that the person who did all of this does not give two shits about where Tony is or who has him.”

“Then why the sponsorship? If that person doesn’t care, why would they set this up?” Steve asked as they walked towards the door. Steve yanked it open, holding it as Ms Pots took a step onto the patio.

“Just as there are people who do not care, Mr Rogers, there are some people who do.” Ms Pots waved as she walked down the steps without any other words.

Steve watched as she turned the corner, now perfectly aware of whom the sponsorship was really coming from. 

Steve walked back to the kitchen, picking the file up to stash in someplace Little hands couldn’t reach.

“What was that about?” Phil asked as he came into the kitchen, swinging the fridge open to pull out a bottle of water.

“I’ll tell you later.” Steve say, jerking his head in the direction of Clint and Bucky in the other room.

Phil nodded in understanding and walked back out of the room. 

Steve closed his eyes for a moment, taking in a breath. With a shake of his head, he opened his eyes and walked after Phil. The movers would get here any minute and Steve didn’t want the walls dinged up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Can y’all guess who is actually sponsoring Tony? 😂)


	9. Caution: Meltdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get to see some more of Bruce! I really hope this turned out as well as I was trying to make it. I love having representation in my stories! 
> 
> ❗️AS ALWAYS ❗️
> 
> I am not autistic. I do not have firsthand experience with being autistic. The only things I know are what I have seen second hand and my crazy empathy. SO IF SOMETHING IS NOT ACCURATE please let me know. I want you all to feel a connection to my characters.

N:JD,C:L 9

 

Tony woke up slowly, rolling onto his back as he yawned. He stopped when his hand hit something, opening his eyes to see what it was. To his surprise, Tony saw bars all around him. Tony almost panicked, thinking he was at the Center where they’d leave him in a white-bared cage for hours, but these bars weren’t white. They were a deep brown, made of wood that felt a bit cool under Tony’s touch.

Tony rolled over to his stomach to lift himself up, surprised when nothing pulled at his skin in uncomfortable ways. Not his clothes or the covers made him uncomfortable. The feeling between his legs, however, was a different story. Tony didn’t usually have accidents during naps, but it seemed he had been asleep for a long time. Not to mention he hadn’t gone to the potty since that morning. 

Tony felt a bit more in headspace than he usually was. He still felt a little Big, but mostly he was Little and ready to get out of his crib. Tony stood up on his knees and pulled at the bars, shaking them back and forth and making a steady rattling sound. Tony wasn’t really sure what he was hoping to accomplish, but waking Bruce wasn’t it.

Bruce let out a whine as he sat up and looked around, rubbing at his eyes. Tony thought he looked confused for a moment before recognition set in and he stood up on his knees too.

Tony waved at his friend, happy when Bruce waved back. Sometime Bruce didn’t want to wave, but Tony was always happy when he did. 

Tony looked around his new room, taking everything in. This was the nicest room he’d ever had and he didn’t want to miss anything. The walls and floors were still relatively bare, so Tony turned back to his own bed. The quilt he’d been tucked under was everything perfect in the world. It was heavy but thin, quickly making it Tony’s favorite thing in his room so far. His pillows had been taken out of the crib, and Tony had wondered why until he found that they’d been tucked into a corner he hadn’t noticed before. It was a small area with a soft pad under it and pillows against the wall, making it look like the second comfiest place in the room, right after his bed, of course. 

Tony laid back down, covering his body and face with his new quilt, pleased with the weight on his chest and firmness of the fabric. He giggled a bit as he rolled back and forth, wanting maximum comfort from his new favorite thing.

“What’re you doing in there, silly boy?”

Tony peeked his eyes out from under the blanket to see Steve standing over the crib. 

“Ope! I see you!” Steve smiled.

Tony tucked his face under the blanket again. Steve couldn’t see him now!

“Ah! Where’d you go?” 

Tony poked his head out again, giggling at Steve’s exasperated expression.

“There you are, I was so worried!”

Tony rolled over to his side as he giggled more.

“I think someone had a good nap, huh? You ready to go play?” Steve asked, dropping the side of the crib as he did so. “May I pick you up?”

Tony didn’t really need to picked up, but he wasn’t really sure how to get out of the crib on his own, so he nodded his head and let Steve lift him out. 

“We’ll get you changed and get you downstairs with your brother.” Steve said as he set Tony down on the changing table. Tony didn’t like the fabric on the sides, but he could tolerate it without too much trouble. 

The change was quick and then Steve was placing Tony on the floor and asking Bruce if we wanted to be lifted out of his crib.

Tony sat on the floor, looking at the room from his lower position. There wasn’t much new to see.

“There we go. Come on boys, let’s go see what everyone’s doing.” Steve took Tony’s hand and walked him and Bruce down the stairs, letting each boy take their time.

Tony hadn’t been down stairs in a long time, but Howard’s house had a lot and he knew how to navigate them. Bruce seemed to be having trouble, though, and Tony wanted to help.

Tony released his grip on Steve, taking Bruce’s free hand in one of his own and taking each step one at a time. Bruce seemed to understand and picked it up really fast, and Tony was happy that he got to help. 

When they got to the bottom, Steve said, “good jobs, boys!”

Tony gave Bruce a soft smile, but Bruce didn’t smile back, his eyes stuck on the floor as he touched each of his fingertips to his thumb—back and forth, back and forth. Tony tried not to think about it as they were lead to the left and into the living room. 

It looked like they had been moving things around for a long time because all of the furniture was set up in a way not too far from the way it had been in the apartment. There were boxes everywhere half-full if things, but it looked like a maze and that made Tony smile a bit.

“I found these two ready to play.” Steve said, and Tony couldn’t agree more. He couldn’t wait to sit and play games on Bruce’s tablet like they always did.

“Hey guys!” Natasha smiled, placing a kiss on Bruce’s head, then turned to look at Steve. “We got to get the rest of the light fixtures hung so we’ll be in the other room.”

Steve nodded, “Yeah, go ahead. I can keep an eye on them. Lots to unpack here.”

Natasha nodded and walked in to the other room as Steve started digging through a box. 

“I think we have some of your toys in this one,” Steve said, drawing out each word and his hands searched through the box.

Bruce sat down on the floor, back braced against the wall like always, and Tony followed suit by taking the other side of the corner, perpendicular to Bruce.

“Tablet.” Bruce said, holding up his hand to Steve. Then, as if it was a last-minute thought, he added, “please.”

“I think your Momma has it, buddy.” Steve replied. “But we’ve got toys around here somewhere. Your blocks should be in this one.”

Bruce gave a guttural sound Tony had never heard before, speeding up his fingertip taping.

Something about Bruce seemed off to Tony. Bruce seemed more dry than normal, giving everything straight. Usually Bruce would at least look at Tony when they sat down, but Bruce stared only at his socked feet, rocking back and forth in staccato movements.

Tony signed, “Are you okay?”

Bruce must have caught it, but all he did was shrug, never pausing his movements. “Tablet.”

Steve sighed, giving up on his search. “Alright, I’ll go ask your Momma about it. You two have to stay here, understood?”

Tony nodded, eyes darting up to Steve for a moment before looking back at Bruce.

Steve came back in the room with a sigh a moment later. “Hey, your Momma said she didn’t have it but we’ll keep an eye out for it. Do you think you could play a different game?”

Bruce shook his head, starting to rock harder with each movement more harsh than the last. “Tablet please.”

“Buddy, we can’t find your tablet. But we’ve got lots of other games for you to play.” Steve said as he kneeled down. “And you’ve got Tony to play with.”

Bruce shook his head harder now, hitting his back on the wall as he shook in a way that made Tony wince. 

“Tablet please.” Bruce repeated through heavy breaths.

Steve sighed, looking over to Tony. “Can you go find Tasha for me, please?”

Tony stood still for a moment, unsure of what to do. His friend was upset and seemed to be hurting and Tony didn’t want him to be, but sometimes Caregivers weren’t nice when Littles starting screaming and flapping their heads around. Tony had seen it enough times to know.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay. Brucie just needs his Momma.” Steve said softly. “Could you go get her for him?”

Tony looked between Steve and Bruce for a moment. Steve wouldn’t hurt Bruce, right? Steve had never hurt anyone. Steve gave really good hugs and was very nice, so he wouldn’t do anything to Bruce. Tony hoped he was making the right choice as he nodded his head and took off around the house. His legs didn’t move very fast and he was still stumpy on his feet, but that didn’t stop him.

Natasha ended up being in the room just off the kitchen and Tony tried his best to not interrupt whilst she and Phil were talking like Howard had taught him, but Brucie was hurt and needed his Momma, so Tony waved his hand around to get her attention.

Tony made his hand shape the letter B in sign and that seemed to be all Natasha needed as she stepped out of the room.

Tony stood in the middle of the room that was suddenly too big when he heard the first scream. 

Tony’s stomach sank.

He didn’t want to think that Steve had hurt Bruce, but maybe he had and Tony was the only one that could help. So Tony took off, almost tripping over a curtain rod as he raced through the kitchen and back to where Bruce and Steve had been.

Tony got there just in time to see Steve pull at Bruce’s feet to pull him away from the wall. Tony shook his head, tears starting to roll down his face as he tried to grab Bruce’s shoulder and pull him back. They were going to hurt Tony’s best friend and he wasn’t about to let that happen!

“Tony, baby, watch out!” Steve said, and then Tony was in the air, kicking his feet as he watched Bruce bellow him start thrashing around. 

“Phil, can you—“

“On it.” Phil said, settling Tony on his hip as he walked into the other room. 

Nononono, Tony was leaving his friend alone! Tears were racing down his face as he tried his best to jerk and wiggle his way out of Phil’s hold to no luck.

“Uncle Phil!” “Daddy!” Two voices chorused as Bucky and Clint ran towards them.

“It’s okay, buds. We expected this to happen.” Phil said sadly. “It just takes Bruce a little longer to adjust, and then we lost his tablet and he lost his only way to ignore everything.”

Bucky and Clint both nodded in understanding, but Tony was still confused. Why was everyone standing around when Bruce was screaming and could be hurt!

“Baby Tony, it’s gonna be okay.” Bucky said as he came closer. “Brucie is okay.”

“Screaming,” Tony signed in worry.

“Daddy said that’s just how Brucie has to work things out sometimes.” Bucky explained as Tony finally sagged against Phil’s hold. Tony just didn’t have it in him to fight against Phil’s arms when he was crying so much.

“Come sit with me,” Bucky said as he sat down and patted the space next to him a few times. They were in the room across from the living room on the other side of the stairs, but the screaming wasn’t muffled very much.

Phil’s arms came away and Tony did as he was asked, sitting in the floor stiffly and trying not to let any more tears fall as he rubbed his hands over the carpet.

“Bruce isn’t anything to be scared of, right boys?” Phil said as he sat on one of the plastic totes, getting nods from Clint and Bucky. “He has hard days just like we do, but he expresses it a little differently. Sometimes we cry and sometimes we scream, and sometimes it’s both.”

“Uh huh! Like baby Tony!” Bucky said

“Yeah, Tony was having a hard day and he cried a lot, didn’t he?” Tony’s face went red over the words. He hadn’t meant to cry so much. “But all he needed was a hug from his Daddy and some cuddles and now he’s okay again.”

Tony was starting to wonder if this was being explained on his behalf, but decided he didn’t care. So long as he knew his friend wasn’t getting hurt like Littles at the Center, Tony didn’t mind what anyone said at all.

“Can I hug you?” Bucky asked.

Tony looked up, then nodded. A hug didn’t sound too bad. 

Bucky’s arms wrapped around him tightly and Tony enjoyed the hug more than he thought he would. Bucky was his big brother, as Bucky enjoyed saying, and that meant Tony was always safe if Bucky was around. 

The screams died down not too long after that, Tony still leaning in to Bucky’s side in a half hug as Bucky and Clint talked back and forth. Tony looked up when he heard footsteps coming into the room, happy to see Bruce braced against Natasha’s chest. 

“We’re going to head upstairs for the night. You three be good for your dads.” Natasha said, giving them a look Tony would say bordered on suspicious and amused.

Steve walked in the room shortly after Natasha walked up the stairs, letting out a sigh. 

“It was easier than I expected, to be honest.” 

Phil chuckled, shifting a lethargic Clint on his lap. The Little was almost clocked out, leaning limply against Phil’s chest. 

Tony had to quench his want to have Steve hold him like that again. He didn’t need stuff like that. He was just fine being left alone. Although, maybe not the most true statement when he was braced against Bucky.

“Hey, no fingers in your mouth, baby.” Steve said, gently tugging away Tony’s hand. 

Tony looked at his slobber soaked fingers with a look of betrayal, not having noticed they were even in his mouth but missing them now that they were gone. 

“Sorry, I should have told him that sooner.” Phil said.

“No, it’s okay. I probably should have waited until we found another binkie. I’m not sure what he did with the one he fell asleep with.” Steve sat down, holding his arms out for his boys.

Bucky was quick to stand up and lay in Steve’s lap, but Tony remained where he was. He didn’t think he could really handle being hugged anymore, now that he was thinking about it. 

“Let’s get some food in those bellies, yeah?” Steve said as he ran a hand through Bucky’s hair.

Clint groaned from Phil’s arms, rubbing his face into his Caregiver’s chest.

“Oh, none of that now. You must be hungry after all that play time?” Phil said as he stood up.

“Wasn’t playin’. Big,” Clint muttered into Phil’s chest.

“I’m sorry. But big boys get hungry too, right?” Phil poked at Clint’s side, making the Little giggle.

Tony felt like he could use some food right then and braced himself the best he could to get up. He was still wobbly on his feet at first, but then he was okay. He followed Steve into the kitchen and sat against one of the walls as everyone scrambled to find food to eat. 

It was hectic, but Tony could tell Bucky was feeling a bit less Little because he insisted on helping with everything. Steve didn’t let him go near the stove—which Bucky didn’t like because “I’m not a baby!”—but let him help in other ways. Clint sat in his chair, clearly half asleep as he laid his head on his hands. Phil moved his hand up and down Clint’s back, looking between the kitchen and Tony, offering little smiles whenever he caught Tony’s eye.

A few minutes later produced several bowls of ravioli smothered in cheese. 

“Soups up!” Bucky smiled, setting a bowl in front of Clint and Phil before running back to the kitchen to grab two more.

“Come on, baby. I bet you’re hungry. You haven’t eaten much today.” Steve said as he crouched down. “Do you need help getting up?”

Tony shook his head, taking his time and using the wall to brace him as he stood up and wobbled over to the table. He was suddenly very tired for someone who had just woken up. 

“Bucky, can you come sit in my lap, please so Tony can have a seat.” Steve asked.

“No! I’m big, I get to sit alone!” Bucky fought, flopping down in a a seat across from Phil. 

“Buddy—“

Steve was cut off by Phil as he said, “It’s okay, I’ll hold Clint.”

Tony suddenly felt his stomach drop as Clint complained about being moved from his seat. Tony didn’t want anyone to be upset because of him. But there were only four chairs at the small table and someone had to give one up. Maybe if he took his bowl, he could just eat on the floor and everyone would be happy. 

With his mind set, Tony reach out for an unclaimed bowl and was almost ready to walk aback to his spot before Steve put his hand on top of the bowl.

“On no, we’re not going to spill this, okay. Bowl stays on the table.” Steve said as he took his seat.

Tony looked over to where Clint was still pouting, not wanting to move from his seat. He could feel tears welling up because he’d gone and made everything difficult and if he wasn’t there none of them would have to give up their seats. He should just be returned, all he was doing today was crying and making Bruce cry and now making Clint cry.

“Hey, baby. What’s this about,” Steve asked as he leaned down. “Still upset over Bruce, huh?”

Tony looked back at Steve as the first tear ran down his face. 

Steve looked over at Phil, telling him to just leave Clint where he is, then looked back down at Tony. “How about you sit with me, huh?”

Tony didn’t know what to say, but his silence must have been enough for Steve to lift Tony up and place the Little on his lap. 

“There we go, it’ll be okay.” Steve rocked—or the equivalent to a rock in a small folding chair—and smoothed down Tony’s hair before holding a plastic fork up for Tony to take.

Tony reached out, grasping the fork and holding it in his hand for a moment. His brain was being slow—too slow for Tony’s taste—and he couldn’t figure out how to hold his hand to eat with the fork.

“I think he’s feeling a bit too small for that, Steve.” Phil said in between bites.

Tony was appalled. He was not too little because he knew how to use a fork. It was just really hard right then.

“Hey hey hey, it’s okay. I’ll help, okay? Look.” Steve gently took the fork from Tony’s hand and speared a ravioli, then held it up towards Tony’s mouth. “See, no need for tears.”

Tony was still for a moment as he rubbed at his eyes again. He had been crying a lot that day and he didn’t like it at all. Still, he held his mouth open and let Steve slide the food in.

“There we go, good boy.” Steve smiled.

Tony felt a blush flash across his face as he chewed. He wasn’t used to anyone helping when he couldn’t figure out his fork. Lots of people got mad and decided that he was just wasting food and then wouldn’t feed him for the rest of the day. No one had ever helped him eat before. But, really, he didn’t mind it. Steve was warm and the food was as good as canned food can be. If he could only stop crying all the time, he wouldn’t mind it at all. 

After dinner, everyone’s faces had been wiped and they were taken upstairs. Phil helped get Clint and Bucky stripped for a bath whilst Steve helped Tony get ready for bed. 

As Tony closed his eyes, he could see the thin light through the door go a bit dark and familiar voices exchange words. 

“I knew he was young, but I had never guessed this young.” Phil said.

Tony’s stomach dropped, his eyes snapping closed. He was too young. They were going to take him back. Tony didn’t even know his real Little range, but Howard had said Tony would be too small and too much work for anyone to ever want him as a Little.

“It’s good to see him like that.” Phil said with a clear note of happiness in his voice.

Tony wanted to look up, but he didn’t want Phil to know he was awake.

“I think Bruce really scared him today,” Steve sighed. “I’m worried what tomorrow will bring for them. They seem to be getting so close and play so well together. Their little friendship warms my heart and I just hope today won't change anything.”

“Steve, I don’t know many things, But I get the feeling Tony isn’t the kind to leave a friend behind.” Phil laughed. “Now come on, we’re gonna have a lot going on tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the mess that is my life, please enjoy this small thing. Let me know what you think or if you’d like to see anything!


	10. Status: Not Great

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Woah, I’m not dead! How weird!
> 
> Yea, this story is going. No, I have no plans to abandon it. I’ve apparently been sittin on a chapter for a while whilst working on another and hadn’t realized I hadn’t posted it, so enjoy this!

N:JD,C:L 10

 

Steve woke with a start early in the morning to his door squealing open. There was a moment between breaths where Steve had to decided if what he was seeing was real or a continuation of the nightmare he’d been having before the familiar form of Bucky holding a blanket tight to his chest broke through Steve’s fears.

“Hey, baby. Bad dream?” Steve asked as he sat up and adjusted the covers so he could lift them wide open. He tried to not think about his panting and racing heart, focusing on Bucky.

Bucky shook his head as he crawled in, pushing against Steve’s chest. “Jus’ scare’d.”

Steve wrapped an arm around Bucky, pulling him closer and running a hand through Bucky’s long hair. They’d have to get it cut soon. 

“Scared of what, sweetheart?” Steve felt a very small shrug and had to hold back a loud sigh. “Alright, you can just cuddle with me and we’ll get some more sleep, okay?”

Bucky nodded, a wisp of a movement as he started drifting off. Steve let his eyes close as he sat wondering for a moment, taking in the sent of Bucky’s freshly washed and still damp hair. A familiar feeling of home settled over Steve as he lulled between awake and asleep. It was a reminder that he was home, that Bucky was in his arms, that he wasn’t pulling men away from mines or watching another casket as it was loaded into a carrier. He was home.

What could have been ten minute or three hours later, Steve’s eyes snapped open when a sudden feeling of unease hit him in the gut and almost making Steve physically jump as his heart started racing.

Something was wrong.

Trying not to wake Bucky whilst extracting his arms as best he could proved to be a difficult task for Steve, but he managed. Steve tucked Bucky in tightly—no matter how old Bucky thought he was, he’d still find a way to roll right up to the edge and give Steve a heart attack—and took a moment to inspect the room.

With certainty that the room was clear, Steve pulled a field knife from between his mattress and box spring before he walked out of the room, tip toeing as to not make any noise. He kept it there always, with only Natasha and Phil aware of the knife’s existence. Steve trusted his gut, a gift that had saved his ass more than once during his service. Currently, it wasn’t telling Steve someone unwelcome was in the house so much as telling him that something was wrong. “Off” would be the best word.

It was their first time spending the night in the new house as a family, but Steve knew the ins and outs of the house like he’d lived there his whole life. You can take a man out of the army, but never take the army training out of the man. Even in the dark, he knew exactly how many steps it would take for him to get to the door for Tony and Bruce’s room. He let out a slow stream of air as he let he door swing open, room void of any noise to indicate his entrance. Steve held his breath, knife clasped tightly in his fist and ready to face whatever may come.

Steve’s eyes quickly swept over Bruce’s empty crib, having to remind himself that Natasha had Bruce with her before moving to Tony’s. A soft sniffle broke the silence in the room, and suddenly Steve understood.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Steve said as he tried his best to steady his heart and hide the knife in his hand so Tony wouldn’t see. The last thing they needed was a Little screaming in the middle of the night because Steve was paranoid. God, what was he thinking, bringing a knife with him?

“I’m going to turn on a light, okay. Watch your eyes.” Steve said as he walked over to Tony’s dresser to flick on the lamp. At the same time, Steve placed the knife under a stack of clothes that had yet to be put away. He absolutely could not forget that was there, be he couldn’t let Tony see him with it, either.

Tony was a pitiful sight in the crib, huddled in one corner with a blanket pulled tight to his chest and tear tracks running down his red and puffy face.

“Oh, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Steve asked as he dropped the side of the crib and reached for Tony.

Tony physically recoiled, making Steve snatch his hands back. Now Tony seemed to be crying harder, trying to sooth himself by wrapping his arms around the back of his neck as he rocked back and forth.

“I’m sorry, baby, I’m sorry. I should have told you what I was doing.” Steve kept his voice even as he could, even though his worry was building. In the two months they’d had Tony, he’d never once been up in the middle of the night like this.

Or maybe he had and was so good at hiding it that no one had noticed. 

The thought almost had Steve running for the bathroom, but he swallowed hard and stayed where he was. 

“Will you let me help you, please?” Steve asked after another minute.

Tony hiccuped as he let one arm fall, the other still around his neck but laying pliant, almost as if he’d just given up.

Steve started going through a list of reasons a Little would wake up crying like this, running every possibility through his head before he started asking questions.

“Do you feel icky?” Steve asked, deciding that he wouldn’t reach out for Tony until Tony had shown it was okay. Giving up wasn’t the same as giving concent, and Steve didn’t want Tony to think it was. When no response came, Steve continued. 

“Did you have a bad dream?”

“Are you hungry?”

“Are you lonely?”

“Do you need a change?”

The first three received not reply, but the last one seemed to make Tony flinch and cry just a little bit harder, and Steve hated that he’d been the one to cause it.

“Hey, baby, that’s okay. This is why we wear diapers and pull-ups, right?” Steve forced a light tone and a smile. “Would it be okay if I changed you?”

Steve bit his lip as he waited for a moment, and then two, and then three. Finally, Tony nodded, but made no other movement. Steve assumed that would be the best he’d get and moved—this time very slowly—to pick Tony up.

Once he had the Little in the air, he understood the distress a lot more. Tony was soaked from the hips down, smelling strongly of urine to the point where Steve had no idea how he’d missed it. 

Tony was crying harder now, sobs breaking Steve’s heart.

“Shuu, baby, shuu. It’s okay. Just an accident. I probably didn’t put your diaper on right. We’ll get you all cleaned up in no-time, yeah?” Steve bobbed around the room for a second as he tried to decided whether a bath was worth it or not right then. 

Deciding it was too late for a true wash-down and the inevitable tears that came along with it, Steve sat Tony down in the changing pad and started stripping everything off the Little. Baby wipes would have to do for cleaning until everyone was more awake, and Steve made sure to take the least amount of time possible to get Tony cleaned up.

Once Steve had decided to leave well-enough alone, he quickly got to work redressing the Little. 

Steve wondered for a moment just how deep Tony was in headspace. He’d seemed very Little when he was put to bed, more so than Steve thinks he’d been before whilst in their care, but that didn’t always carry in to the next day. Sometime Bucky would go to bed Little and wake up completely Big, though rarely. Maybe the accident had pushed Tony into headspace, but it was equally possible it had pushed him out. There was still so much Steve didn’t know about Tony, and that scared him sometimes. 

When Steve had Tony dressed, he lifted the Little into his arms and moved instinctively towards the crib before realizing the bed was still soaked in urine. Steve thought about stripping the bed and wiping it down, then remaking it with spare sheets and blankets, but then decided it was too late and he was too tired for all that. 

“How about we go sleep in my bed, hum?” Steve gave Tony a few bounces, hoping for a reply of some sort but Tony remained quiet, fingers set firmly inside his mouth as tears still ran down his face. 

Steve grabbed a pacifier and a wet wipe from the changing table, gently pulling on Tony’s fingers and replacing them with the rubber nipple before running the cloth across Tony’s face. 

“Hey, baby. We’re all clean, it’s all okay. No need for tears, yeah?” Steve bounced a bit more, gentle movements up and down whilst Tony let his head fall against Steve’s shoulder. “We’ll get your bed all clean in the morning, okay?” 

Tony turned his face into Steve’s shoulder, gasping as he started crying harder. 

Steve ran his left hand through his hair, pausing with his palm on his forehead as he tried to calm himself down from his rising frustration to think. Tony wasn’t just crying because of the accident, something else must have happened. What was Steve missing?

On a whim, Steve walked over to the crib and started pulling at the covers and blankets, trying his best to not mix the pee-soaked things with the non-pee-soaked things. Tony’s face pulled away from Steve’s shoulder, seeming to watch as Steve moved everything around. Steve wasn’t even sure what he was hoping for, too tired to really think through his actions until he felt a small movement from Tony and looked down to see him holding out his arm, reaching for something. Steve looked up to see his hand wrapped around the quilt from the bed, an odd mix of humor and exhaustion making him give a single chuckle.

“You want your quilt?” Steve asked.

Tony’s head nodded every so slightly, fingers wiggling as he reached for the blanket.

Steve pulled the rest of the blanket out of the crib and the mess of sheets and blankets from Steve having tossed them around. Steve had expected the wet patch, but somehow hadn’t come to the realization that he would not be sleeping for a while until that exact moment.

Tony tried to grasp the blanket, but Steve had to pull it away. 

Steve sighed as he said, “I’m sorry, baby, but we gotta wash it.”

Tony’s silent tears turned into loud sobs, and Steve tried his best to comfort the Little as he dragged the blanket out of the room and carried both Tony and the quilt down stairs. 

Steve bobbed Tony up and down as he walked to the laundry room, tossing the quilt into the washer as he sushed the Little the best he could. If they weren’t careful, they’d wake someone else up and Steve would never hear the end of it.

“Look, in the washer it goes, okay?” Steve said, trying his best to keep his composer as Tony continued to cry.

The sound was starting to drill in to Steve’s head, and Steve could feel a burn behind his own eyes—he didn’t even know why, but blinking wouldn’t remove the sensation. 

God, what was wrong. Nothing was wrong. But everything was wrong. Everything was happening. What was he doing. What had he been thinking? He wasn’t a good caregiver, he wasn’t a good artist, he wasn’t even a good solder, something he had done for six years! How was he supposed to do anything or help anyone when he was falling apart at the seams at two in the morning. He couldn’t even get Tony to stop crying. Right when the Little was starting to trust him, Steve had to go and fuck everything up. If he had been paying more attention last night, the diaper would have been out on right and none of this would have happened. 

Steve felt the tears run down his face as he let the wall take his weight, squeezing Tony to his chest as his knees gave out and he slid to the floor. Tony’s cries hadn’t stopped, and Steve was so lost and overwhelmed. Everything would be so much better if Steve just wasn’t so messed up. If he could just get control of his emotions and man-up, he’d be able to help Tony instead of sitting on the floor and balling right along with him. Why couldn’t he stay strong. Fuck! Why was he so weak!

Steve just held Tony tighter, unsure of who was really sneaking comfort from whom as they cried together.

Some unknown amount of time later, Steve felt a tap on his shoulder, startling him.

“Steve?” Phil asked, looking down with worry.

Steve sniffled, forcing a smile. “Phil, hey, what’s up?” Phil gave a level look that told Steve to drop the shit, and Steve’s face sank. “I’m sorry.”

Phil gave a thin, supportive smile and he sat on the floor directly opposite. “What’s going on?”

Steve adjusted Tony in his lap, the Little now just a sleeping sack of potatoes. Steve wasn’t sure when that had happened. 

“Tony woke up.”

Phil gave a puff of a laugh. “I can see that. I meant why are you sitting on the laundry room floor?”

Steve’s eyes settled on Tony’s pajamas—little monkeys jumping around the fabric and seeming to have a grand old time—trying not to let the night sink in on him.

“He, uh, he had an accident. Soaked right through everything.” Steve moved a shoulder to wipe at his damp cheek. “He hadn’t cried out, Phil. He was just sitting there alone and crying and was scared when I reached for him.”

Steve had to swallow against the crack in his voice before continuing on. “And then I just couldn’t get him to calm down and I guess he’s attached to the quilt we got him because he wouldn’t leave the room without it, but it was soaked and so we came down here so I could wash it and he just would not settle down.”

Tears were running down his face again, something Steve felt incredibly ashamed of as he tried his best to wipe them away.

“I got a gut feeling that something was wrong when I woke up and I... I took a knife in to their room, Phil. A knife! Into a baby’s room!”

“Steve, Steve,” Phil said, his voice even and soft. “You were scared someone was there. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay, Phil. They’re—“

“Steve.” Phil leaned forward, placing a hand on Steve’s knee. “It’s going to be okay. A lots been going on, we just need to take a breath and work through it together.”

Steve shook his head, squeezing Tony just a bit tighter. 

“What am I doing, Phil?”

The words were a whisper, barely audible over the sound of the washer.

“You’re taking care of your Littles” Phil replied, as if no thought was needed.

“I couldn’t even get him to calm down and—“

“Steve, were all going to have hard days. We’re all going to have breakdowns. But we can’t beat ourselves up over it.” Phil shuffles across the floor to sit shoulder to shoulder with Steve. “These little nutcases are going to drive us insane. But that’s okay. Because we’ve got each other. And with everything else, Steve, I’m honestly surprised I haven’t seen you break down more often.”

Steve nodded, letting his head sink onto Tony’s shoulder. 

“I think you and Tony may have a few more things in common than you think.” Phil said as he ran a hand up and down Tony’s back.

When Steve gave him a quizzical look, Phil continued. “Sitting in a dark room, alone and upset. Not sure how to reach out, or how to react when someone tries to help. Scared of the unknown.”

Phil locked eyes with Steve for a moment as he said, “Both needing someone to show them they are worth something.”

Steve’s eyes darted downward, no longer able to meet Phil’s. 

They sat like that for a long time. Long enough for the washer to go through its cycle and Steve’s legs to fall asleep. Long enough to feel a blanket draped over Tony’s shoulders and cocoon them together. 

Steve wasn’t sure if he was awake or asleep during that time, but the ring of the dryer finishing pulled him out of his simi-slumber. With a heave-ho, Steve managed to stand with Tony still in his arms.

Tony’s head lifted for a moment, looking up at Steve with a confused expression before letting his head fall back onto Steve’s shoulder. Steve smiled and kissed his head, then leaned down to pull the quilt out of the dryer.

“Hey, baby. Look at this.” Steve said as he held up the freshly washed blanket.

Seeing Tony’s face light up as he reached out for the blanket somehow made everything else go away. There was a long way for everyone to go, but one thing Steve would never regret is being a Caregiver to Tony and Bucky. Not in a million years.


	11. Operation: Least Annoying Little

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello once more. XD This chapter Is hella-long, so hope it makes up for me not posting in a while! We're starting to get to some of the plot so IO hope you all enjoy!

N:JD, C:L 11 

 

Tony sat in the living room, watching as Bucky helped Steve empty the last of the boxes for the play room. It had been almost a week since they moved into the new house, and things were finally starting to settle in—something Tony was grateful for. After crying all night the first day, Tony had been trying his best to keep out of the way and not be annoying. Steve had seemed off after that night, his smile not reaching his eyes the same way it normally did, and Tony knew it was because he was being too much trouble. 

 

Which is why he sat alone in the corner. Bruce was with Natasha at a doctor’s appointment and Clint was busy chasing after Bucky and Steve as they put things away. Steve checked in on Tony every few minutes, but he was left to his own devices otherwise. It was weird. 

 

Tony had grown used to always having someone around, a feeling he didn’t think he’d ever come to appreciate. At the Center and with Howard, Tony was always alone. But it seemed like he’d forgotten how to play on his own in the past few months. It felt weird and he didn’t like it. 

 

Tony looked down at the blocks he had stacked together mindlessly and the toy cars that were spread around him, sad that Bruce wasn’t there to make all the fun sounds and name fun things about the cars. Tony knew he wasn’t Little enough to truly be immersed in the game, but he still wished Bruce had been there. Or anyone, really. Tony had a split second where he thought he could get up and see what Clint and Bucky were doing, then realized that he would just get under Steve’s feet and be in the way. 

 

“Hey, baby,” Steve said as he walked into the room, just as he had been doing every few minutes all morning. “Having fun?” 

 

Tony gave a sharp nod of his head, lying as best he could. 

 

Steve crouched down, giving Tony a sympathetic smile as he said, “Missing Bruce, huh?” 

 

Tony almost felt like he could cry as Steve pointed out his missing friend but tried his best to ensure the tears wouldn’t fall. Bruce having a doctor’s appointment had just been the top of Tony’s crappy-day sunday. 

 

“Hey, it’s okay. He’ll be back soon and then we’re all gonna go to the park. Doesn’t that sound nice?” 

 

Tony nodded, shifting in his spot to move his legs out from under his butt. 

 

“Do you wanna come help us put away some toys?” 

 

Tony nodded enthusiastically. He’d do anything if it meant he wasn’t sitting alone anymore, even cleaning up. 

 

Steve lifted Tony on to his hip and carried him over to the playroom on the other side of the stairs. Tony hadn’t been allowed in the room until now because everything was being moved around and it “wasn’t safe for babies”—which Tony was not, thank you very much—and the room looked like a picture out of a magazine. Shelves lined with bins sat on the far wall, bookcases framing the front window and half-full of picture books. Two bean bags sat in the far corner and a small craft table butted up to the wall with the stairs. Everything was colorful and fresh and new, and Tony was amazed. He almost pinched himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. 

 

“Let’s get some of the trash out of here so you can play.” Steve said, bouncing Tony a bit. “Bucky, can you condense the carboard so it will fit in the recycling? Clint, I’ll need you to grab all the leftover parts and pieces and put them in a cup. And you—” Steve turned to Tony, “—can help me with picking up Styrofoam and cellophane.” 

 

Bucky and Clint started right in on their task as Steve placed Tony on the ground and sat across from him. “All you gotta do is grab the plastic and roll it into a ball. Then we’ll stack all the Styrofoam by the door.” 

 

Tony nodded from his place on the floor, reaching for plastic and balling it as tightly as he could. He must have been much Littler than he felt because his movements were jerky, and his hands took much more effort to open and close. Tony looked up to see if Steve had noticed. Little Littles took a lot of attention and needed lots of help, which Tony knew would be annoying. If Tony was truly trying his best to keep out of Steve’s way, he had to make sure no one noticed he was feeling younger. 

 

The room was cleaned out quickly enough, Steve giving everyone a high-five as he thanked them each for their help. Tony could see that a tiny part of Steve’s normal cheeriness was coming back, but not enough to feel the warmth that Steve’s smile was supposed to hold. 

 

As if the action was timed, Natasha walked in the door with Bruce perched on her hip. 

 

“Welcome home!” Clint shouted as he rummaged through one of the red bins that lined the wall. Seeming to find what he was looking for, Clint looked up and held his arms out wide as he said, “Look what we did!” 

 

Natasha smiled as she hung her keys on the hook by the door. “I see, you all did a really good job!” 

 

Clint’s smile grew tenfold before he took off for who-knows-where. 

 

“How much sugar did you feed him?” Natasha joked as she sat Bruce down to pull off his light jacket. There was a small chill in the air that morning, but it would have warmed up by the afternoon and Tony figured Bruce may be a bit hot. 

 

“Oh, you know, the standard bag of gummy bears and about three gallons of ice-cream.” Steve chuckled as he took the jacket from Natasha’s hand to hang on a hook in the playroom. 

 

“I didn’t get any ice-cream!” Bucky stated, looking at Steve with the most offended expression Tony had ever seen. “That’s not fair!” 

 

“Buck, we were just playing. Clint didn’t get any ice-cream or candy.” Steve pulled Bucky in for a small hug. 

 

Bucky was still frumpy when he walked off but seemed to lose it as he became engrossed with looking through the same tub Clint had a hold of a few minutes earlier. 

 

“How’d it go?” Steve asked in a voice close to a whisper. 

 

Natasha smiled. “He did a really good job. I think he may need a nap later this afternoon, but it can wait until after the park. 

 

“You sure?” Steve asked. 

 

Natasha glared at Steve teasingly, causing Steve to lift his hand up in surrender. 

 

“How have you been, mouse?” Natasha asked as she walked Bruce over towards Tony. 

 

The nickname had been odd for Tony at first, and he was unsure of whether to allow it or not. It seemed very close to an insult, mocking Tony’s muteness, but the more Natasha said it, the less he thought that was the case. She said it with the same affection she held when calling Bruce a “rugrat,” or Clint a “monkey.” 

 

Natasha ran her hand through Tony’s curls, a motion that had Tony closing his eyes for a moment to appreciate. “Quiet day, hum?” 

 

“I think he was just missing Bruce,” Steve answered for him. 

 

Tony looked at Bruce for a moment, trying to not let how much he was bothered by his friend's absence show on his face. 

 

“Aw, I’m sorry, buddy. Bruce just had to go to a doctor’s appointment. But you all can play all afternoon, okay?” Natasha placed a kiss on Bruce’s head, then turned to Steve. “We should start getting ready. I think Phil is planning on meeting us there with lunch.” 

 

“Alright, sounds good.” Steve looked at the boys for a moment as he said, “We’ll be right back. Try not to get in too much trouble, yeah?” 

 

Tony could see the small smile Steve had when he said it, but that didn’t stop Tony from thinking that maybe he was too much trouble in the first place and Steve was just trying to be nice. Maybe he was only putting up with Tony because he felt bad. Just thinking about all the possibilities made Tony want to cry, but a small hand on his shoulder stopped the oncoming tears. 

 

“Please don’t cry. I didn’t mean to leave.” Bruce said, his own eyes looking watery. 

 

Tony shook his head, wiping at his eyes. Even after these few months, Tony still didn’t know enough sign to express full sentences, but the signs he did know got his through most days. It wasn’t that Tony had stopped wanting to learn so much as no one really had much of a chance to sit down and teach him like before. But even if he had learned the entirety of sign through-and-through, Tony didn’t think he’d be able to say what was really bothering him. 

 

Instead, Tony just had to wipe his eyes and pretend like everything was okay—like Steve didn’t seem sad and tired lately. 

 

“Wanna play?” Bruce asked, holding up his tablet. 

 

Tony didn’t feel much like playing, but he nodded his head and leaned in when Bruce sat down and turned the system on. They were playing a game Tony hadn’t truly been following when Steve came to collect them. They were packed into two cars, Steve taking Tony and Bruce whilst Natasha took Bucky and Clint—they were much more likely to listen to her than to Steve. 

 

They pulled up to a park Tony had a distant memory of but couldn’t quite place. It was an odd mix of feelings Tony wasn’t sure what to do with. Steve unbuckled Bruce first so he could hold Natasha’s hand, then Tony. Steve hoisted one of the over-packed bags onto his shoulder, taking ahold of Tony’s hand and telling Bucky to take his other. Tony walked sandwiched between Bucky and Steve the whole way, feeling weird as he focused on not tripping, but having to look over his shoulder several times to ensure Bruce was still following. 

 

They found a place not too far away from the playground to set up under a shaded tree. There weren’t too many families out, but enough to make Tony nervous. Granted, that didn’t take much. 

 

Tony couldn’t remember the last time he’d been to a park, but it had to have been a long time before he ever walked into the Center. Maybe his mother had taken him at some point when he was younger, but Tony couldn’t be sure. So, when Tony felt a small pang of fear go through his stomach, he couldn’t identify why. As much as he wanted to crawl into Steve’s lap and stay there for the rest of the day, Tony knew he couldn’t. That would just be annoying, to have a Little glued to your side like that. 

 

So, Tony stayed on the blanket that had been laid out next to the picnic table with a few toys spread across for them to play with. Clint and Bucky had taken off for the swings as soon as Steve said they could, but Bruce, thankfully, said he’d rather stay on the blanket, which gave Tony a reason to stay as far away from the play equipment as possible. 

 

Tony felt a small tap on his shoulder that almost caused him to jump three feet into the air as his head flew up to see who it was. 

 

Bruce looked on in concern, raising one eyebrow as he signed, “okay?” 

 

Tony looked down at his fiddling hands as he nodded his head. The last thing Tony needed was to burden another person with his problems. 

 

Bruce didn’t seem convinced, but let it be as he looked up and asked, “Can we play in the sand?” 

 

Natasha nodded with a smile. “Yeah, of course. Do you want me to walk you over there?” 

 

Tony’s heart sank as he realized Bruce wanted to be near the playground. Tony would have to go, too, because wherever Bruce went, Tony followed. And Tony didn’t want to be left alone on the blanket. Just as Tony thought it couldn’t get any worse, Bruce shook his head no to the escort, meaning they would have to walk over on their own. 

 

Tony bit his lip, taking short breaths as he stood unsteadily on his feet and followed behind Bruce. Tony was trying his best not to trip on tree roots and fallen branches, but he still hit a few snags that would have ended in a face-plant had Bruce not taken his hand. Tony knew that Bruce caught on to how Little Tony was feeling a while ago and this was just more proof, but he still felt embarrassed. 

 

Finally, mercifully, they reached the sand pit and Tony was able to flop down once more. There were a few other Littles around, most playing quietly in pairs of two or three. They all seemed around the same age group as Bruce and Tony, which made Tony feel a bit more okay about being in the sand pit. One little boy sat at the far end, wiggling a bucket around as what must have been his Caregiver smiled and shook his hands. Just a group of Littles playing in a sand pit, Tony thought, nothing else. Bruce had started on piling sand into a mountain when Tony had been looking around, and Tony started helping as soon as he noticed. 

 

Tony calmed down bit by bit as he sat in the sand, digging trenches and building castles. Bruce had pulled leaves and twigs from around the sand box to be used as flags and decoration, which Tony laughed at. Bruce explained that they had to mark it or else it might get knocked down and the town people may lose their home. Tony didn’t want anyone to lose their homes and started joining in on sticking leaves into the tops of several little piles around one, much larger pile. 

 

Tony looked up to see Steve sitting at the table still, now joined by Phil and several trays of food. They would be told to go back to the table soon, and Tony found that he would miss his piles of sand that made up their village. But Steve looked like he was having fun, too, and Tony didn’t want to cause any trouble to take that away. He’d listen and do what he was told and stay out of the way, just like he had promised himself several days ago. 

 

Tony turned back to his game, shoving more sand onto the largest pile in the middle that Bruce had declared the castle. When someone said his name a few minutes later, Tony looked up, expecting Steve or Phil. Instead, the man looked like he could dwarf Steve, which wasn’t an easy thing to do. His bald head reflected the sun, giving him a bright glow that Tony knew he shouldn’t have. The dark suit and attaché were recognizable in a second, and Tony’s blood ran cold. 

 

“Hello, boys.” Obadiah Stane said, a putrid smile on his face. “How are you today?” 

 

Bruce seemed hesitant but answered, “I’m ‘kay.” 

 

Stane gave Bruce a larger smile, then turned to Tony as he repeated, “And how are you today?” 

 

Tony could feel all of the color drain from his face, his hands suddenly going numb. He couldn’t say anything, couldn’t answer. He couldn’t even nod to make it look like a simple exchange between a stranger and a Little that sometimes happened in short bursts in public areas when a Little was being told their clothes were cute. 

 

Bruce looked at Tony for a moment with concern before turning back to the man. “He doesn’t talk.” 

 

“Oh?” Stane said as he straightened back up and rubbed wrinkles out of his suit. “And why is that?” 

 

Bruce shrugged. “He doesn’t want to.” 

 

Tony wasn’t sure whether to urge Bruce on or put an end to the whole interaction by screaming or crying or something that would draw attention. But he didn’t have any choice but to sit there and watch Obadiah Stane, the man responsible for two of Tony’s six broken arms and all five of Tony’s dislocated shoulders, interact with his best friend. The man who played as if he was Tony’s best friend, then told Howard lies behind his back that would get him into trouble. It took Tony a long time to see Stane’s cruel game, but the damage had been done. Howard trusted Stane more than Tony, and any word Stane said was taken as the truth. 

 

The final beating, the one that left him alone in the hospital, had been because of something Stane had said. Whilst Howard did most of the punching, Stane always had a hand in some way. 

 

And now the man was standing in front of him in a park for Littles, scaring Bruce and Tony was still powerless to stop him. Tony could feel his eyes become prickly and wet as he sniffled, trying his best to stop the oncoming tears but having difficulty in doing so. 

 

“I think you should leave,” a man said, his voice breaking Tony out of his thoughts long enough to notice that there was a man standing next to Stane holding a Little boy’s hand. Tony recognized him as the man who had been smiling at the Little waving the bucket around earlier. 

 

“Excuse me?” Stane responded. 

 

“This is a park for Littles only. I didn’t see you come in here with one, which means you need to leave.” The man responded. 

 

Tony would have bowed and kiss the ground the man walked on as he stood his ground under Stane’s glare. After a few moments, Stane huffed, pulled at the collar of his suit, and walked off. 

 

The man shook his head, looking down at Bruce and Tony. “What did that man say to you?” 

 

Tony shook his head and Bruce just said, “Nothin’. Jus’ asked ‘bout our day.” 

 

“He didn’t say anything mean or nasty?” The man asked. 

 

Bruce shook his head. 

 

“Okay, thank you for telling me. Where is your mommy and daddy?” 

 

Bruce turned, pointing at the table all three adults sat at. Tony looked closely to see that Natasha had a careful eye on them, Steve and Phil attending to what must be a bit of road rash on Clint’s knee. 

 

“Why don’t we all go over to them, hum? I think they would all love a hug.” The man suggested. 

 

Tony would have said no, but this man clearly wasn’t anything like Stane. He was a good Caregiver, Tony could feel it, and it was only reinforced as the Little holding his hand demanded to be picked up. A small pang in Tony made him want Steve, but he shoved it down. 

 

“We’re not supposed to go anywhere with strangers.” Bruce said. 

 

The man smiled. “You are very right.” The man crouched down and held out his hand. “My name’s Wade, and this is my Little Peter. What are your names?” 

 

Bruce took the man’s hand and shook it hesitantly. “I’m Bruce, and that’s Tony.” 

 

“It’s nice to meet you. Now we aren’t such strangers. Huh?” Wade smiled as he stood back up. “Will you let us help you get back to your mommy and daddy?” 

 

Bruce thought for a moment, then nodded okay, sliding across the sand and to the edge of the pit. Tony hesitated, but tried his best to follow. Bruce stood and patiently waited for Tony as he got to the edge and placed his feet on the dirt. Something must have happened between playing in the sand and now because Tony was having an even harder time trying to stay on his feet. 

 

Just as Tony was about to start walking towards Steve, he felt his foot get caught and would have fallen into the dirt had it not been for the quick actions of Wade’s arm. “How about we hold hands, yeah? And your brother can grab the other?” 

 

Tony wanted to say no, but he knew he wouldn’t be getting anywhere fast without some kind of help. He needed to age up, and fast. He didn’t want Steve to have to deal with some needy Little. Tony knew he wasn’t normally so small, which meant something was wrong, but he couldn’t tell Steve or anyone that. He’d just cause more problems. 

 

As the man helped them across the small field to their table, Tony could see Natasha’s eyes filling with more and more concern. He could tell it was taking everything in Natasha not to jump up and run for Bruce, and he wondered why she didn’t. 

 

“Hi, I hope I’m not over-stepping my boundaries, but I wanted to bring these two back to you all.” Wade said as they got closer. All heads popped up to look at the man. 

 

Bruce dropped Tony’s hand and walked to Natasha for a hug, leaving Tony to stand with the man alone. 

 

“We were just in the sand pit and saw a strange man talking to them and thought it best to get them back to their family.” 

 

Steve looked up in concern, standing up and walking around the table. He reached under Tony’s arms and lifted him easily into the air and onto his hip. 

 

“A strange man?” Steve asked as he checked Tony over, twisting his face and looking at his hands. Tony blushed, eyes threatening to spill over once more as Steve’s hand squeezed at Tony’s very-clearly wet diaper. “What kind of strange man.” 

 

“I’m not sure, He was bald, dressed in some kind of MI6 suit. He just creeped us out, so I interrupted his little talk and he walked away.” Wade replied. 

 

Tony watched as Steve looked back at Phil for a moment before turning back to Tony. “You look pale, buddy. Are you feeling sick?” 

 

Tony didn’t respond, electing to lay his head on Steve’s chest instead. It had been several days since Tony had sworn not to be an annoyance, which meant he fought any time someone tried to carry or coddle him. Tony hadn’t realized how much he missed it. Steve’s arms felt safe, like not even Stane could get through them. 

 

“Thank you for watching out for our kids, Mr...” Natasha said. 

 

“Wilson. Wade Wilson. And this is Peter.” Wade introduced. “I hope we didn’t scare them too much,” 

 

Somewhere between Tony being shifted on Steve’s hip and Phil asking Wade to join in on their lunch, Tony had fallen into a deep sleep. Something he wasn’t expecting after the events of the day was a good bit of sleep. But there, breathing in Steve’s deodorant and bodywash, Tony had somehow gotten it in his head that it was okay to be carried by Steve just this one last time before he went back to being the least annoying Little anyone could ever meet. Just this one last time and never again. Once Tony was sat down after his nap, he would never be picked up again and he was okay with that. Right? 

 

Well, it didn’t matter if Tony was okay with it or not. It was what needed to be done so Steve would smile and maybe they’d keep him, if only because they pitied him. Tony could do this. 

 

Tony could do this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed! Thanks for reading!


	12. Steve: Not a Bad Daddy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, I wanted to put in a small disclaimer that Steve is super depressed in this chapter. If that's something you can't read right now, please wait until you feel better or skip this chapter. It's mostly just Steve's POV of what's going on and the second half will be restated in the next chapter. 
> 
> (There is a good amount of fluff towards the end, though!)

Steve felt... numb. Like the world was a million miles away and there was nothing Steve could do about it. He kept up his act for three days, neither of his boys seeming to notice. That was a good thing, Steve didn’t want them to worry. But then Tony started pulling away a few days ago and Steve only felt worse. His Littles were his everything, and it was looking like he’d gone and lost all of Tony’s trust. 

 

It was tearing him up inside to have Tony wiggle out of his arms the second Steve took him out of the crib. Getting him diaper changes had become more of an issue because he wouldn’t tell anyone he was wet and Bucky wasn’t always around to point it out. A rash was starting to form on Tony’s thighs, but the more Steve checked for wet diapers, the more Tony whine and pull away. On the few occasions Tony did make it to the bathroom, it was only ever with Bucky. He wouldn’t let Steve help at all. 

 

Steve felt as if he was just doing everything wrong. He hadn’t been able to sleep, staying up until the small hours of the morning staring at his celling and the clock by his side. The longer he stayed up, the more he fell into his own head. Steve’s head was not a good place to be on a good day, much less a day where the world felt like it didn’t matter. 

 

Steve was walking through the early-spring chill, hands shoved into his jeans as he sulked down the sidewalk of their new neighborhood. Tony wouldn’t let Steve take him out of the crib that morning, insisting on climbing over the bars. When Steve tried to explain that it wasn’t safe and Steve would set him down right after—”I promise”—Tony still shook his head no, trying to throw his leg over the bar. Tony still pushed, and Steve relented, watching as Tony got both legs over and promptly fell on his butt. Steve was ready to dive in and help Tony up, but he’d been swatted away. 

 

Steve just couldn’t handle it anymore. He was failing as a caregiver, the one thing he was supposed to be good at no matter what. It was literally in his biology. But it still couldn’t do it right. It was pathetic. And as much as he wanted to be mad at Tony, to yell or scream and “set him straight,” Steve knew it was wrong. It wasn’t Tony’s fault Steve was a bad Caregiver. 

 

Steve turned a corner and spotted a café not too far down the road and decided to set a course for some hot coffee to clear his head. He had left the boys with Phil and took off without explaining why, but Phil seemed to understand. 

 

After placing his order, Steve sat down at a table by the door, and reached into his pocket for his phone. When he pulled it out, a card fell and hit the floor a few feet away. Steve didn’t remember putting anything into his pocket when he left, but he reached for it with his foot and dragged it over so he could pick it up with his hand. 

 

Steve instantly recognized the business card from the guy on the bus, Sam Wilson. A therapist specializing in veteran help. Steve scoffed, looking up at the ceiling and past. It had been a long time since he’d been to church, but he knew this was some kind of divine intervention. Steve unlocked his phone with his right hand and typed in the number. 

 

After a few rings, a familiar voice picked up. “This is Sam.” 

 

Steve suddenly felt like it was very wrong to have been calling at such an odd hour. He could have sent a text, that would have been much easier. But the call had been made and now he had to follow through. 

 

“Hi Sam, uh. This is Steve? We met on the bus a couple weeks ago and you gave me your card.” 

 

“Oh, yeah! I was wondering if you were ever gonna call me. How’ve you been?” Sam replied, as if he and Steve had been friends for decades and were just catching up. 

 

Steve hesitated, wondering if he should tell the truth. He could just ask about an opening sometime soon, that would be much more socially acceptable. Right? “Honestly, not great.” 

 

“What’s been going on?” 

 

Steve took a deep breath in. “Just... a lot of things. I just trying to sort through some stuff in a café down the street from my house. Do you have any openings any time soon?” 

 

“I’m free right now.” 

 

“Oh, uh,” Steve hadn’t been expecting something so soon. “Where’s your office? I can try to be there soon.” 

 

“Nah, I’ll come to you. Which café is it?” 

 

Steve hesitated for a minute, then told him the name of the café. It wasn’t as if he was giving his home address, and this neighborhood was lined with houses. It’d take a long time to find the one Steve owned. 

 

Fifteen minutes and two cups of coffee later, Steve found himself sitting across from one Sam Wilson, professional army shrink. They went through all of the basics—how are you doing, are you in a safe place, is there anyone you need to call so they know where you are. Steve answered as best he could, then shrugged his shoulders when asked if he was okay. 

 

“I’m not in a terrible place—I know I’ve been in worse—but this is just... Everything’s hitting me like a brick.” Steve ran a hand through his hair as he sat forward in his chair. 

 

“Do you think you could list a few things?” Sam asked. 

 

Steve thought for a moment. “I just feel like I’m not enough. That I’m not doing enough. In just about every aspect of my life, I’m not filling the role that needs to be filled.” 

 

Sam gave Steve an odd look Steve couldn’t name before saying, “You’re a Caregiver, yeah?” When Steve nodded, he went on. “Is this about them?” 

 

“No, it’s about me with them. That they deserve everything in the world, and I can’t even do the basics right. I feel completely useless.” 

 

“How do you mean?” 

 

Steve shook his head, thinking. “I don’t... I don’t know. Bucky’s been spending a lot more time Big and Tony’s been pulling away. It feels like they’re both telling me they don’t need me at all.” 

 

“How has Tony been pulling away?” 

 

“He’s been with us for two months and we’ve made so many breakthroughs. He doesn’t talk but he started learning a bit of sign language and uses it when he can. But now he won’t even do that. He’ll whine any time I pick him up or try to help in any way and won’t tell me what’s bothering him.” Steve ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t even know what I did.” 

 

“You said he’s only been with you for a few months?” Sam asked. When Steve nodded, he asked, “Where was Tony before he was with you?” 

 

Steve shrugged. “He’d been thrown into some government-funded Center after being left at a hospital.” 

 

“Left?” 

 

“Yeah,” Steve sighed as he sat up, “a man brought him in and then just... left. We still don’t know why, but he was clearly sevearly abused. He didn’t even have a way to tell the social worker what his name is.” 

 

Steve could see Sam’s brows furrow. “That’s terrible.” 

 

Steve nodded his head. “I thought he was doing better—settling in, you know? But now it feels like we’ve taken one step forward and two steps back. And I don’t know what I did, or what I’m doing.” 

 

Sam bent his neck to catch Steve’s eyes as he said, “I can’t say this for sure, but I get the feeling that it may have nothing to do with you?” 

 

Steve looked up, confused. “How?” 

 

“Tony seems like a very special boy who’s had a really hard time adjusting, and I’m willing to bet that he’s not doing any of this because he’s mad or upset you. It sounds like he may have gotten something stuck in his head right before all of this started and hasn’t been able to work it out. He may be acting out and testing boundaries to see how far he can push you before you drop him back off at that Center.” 

 

Steve gave a harsh chuckle, though not unkindly. “And when did you become an expert on Littles?” 

 

Sam smiled. “Just keep showing him you’re not giving up on him. Keep tight boundaries and don’t let him break any rules, but don’t be harsh on him either. It may take some time, but it will get better.” 

 

Steve could feel a small bit of hope rise in his chest. “You really think?” 

 

Sam nodded with a supportive smile. “I do. And don’t be so harsh on yourself, either. Having rough patches doesn’t make you a bad Caregiver, it just makes you a person.” 

 

Steve huffed a laugh, smiling at Sam and feeling about a million times better. 

 

When Steve got back home, it was late in the afternoon and he could smell dinner on the stove. He hung up his keys and swung his jacked on the couch as he walked into the living room. Bruce and Tony sat in the far corner, taking turns as they sipped at things on Bruce’s tablet. Steve thought he may want to invest in something similar for Tony. Bruce’s was a specially designed tablet with games and apps centered around skills Natasha thought he needed help in. Maybe Steve could just get a regular tablet for Tony and get some of the same games. 

 

Steve must have been staring for just a moment too long because both of their heads popped up to look at him, Tony’s falling right back down a second later while Bruce sent him a small smile. 

 

Steve gave a half-hearted smile back and walked off to the kitchen. Phil stood over the stove, stirring a pot as Clint sat on the counter behind him. 

 

“Uncle Steve!” Clint greeted, holding up a wooden spoon, “Daddy and I are making dinner!” 

 

Steve chuckled. “I see that. What’re you all making?” Steve looked over Phil’s shoulder into the large pot. 

 

“I thought some homemade chili wouldn’t have any complaints tonight.” Phil said, slapping Steve’s hand as he went to reach for the already-cooked beef. 

 

Steve snickered, still managing to grab some and popped it into his mouth. 

 

“You seem to be doing better.” Phil observed as he spun around and leaned against the counter. 

 

“Yeah,” Steve said, looking over o Clint for a second before turning back to Phil. “I’m not one-hundred-percent, but I feel better than I did this morning.” 

 

Phil smiled. “That’s good to hear. Did the walk help?” 

 

"Yeah, I’ll explain it all later.” Steve nodded, pushing off the counter as he asked, “Where’s Bucky?” 

 

“He was feeling Big so I was letting him put together some of the play-room furniture with Natasha. They should still be in there.” Phil turned back to his pot of chili and Steve took that as his dismissal. 

 

Sure enough, Steve found Natasha and Bucky leaning over a wooden sqaure that must have been one of the bookshelves. “How’s it going?” 

 

Bucky’s head shot up, smiling when he caught sight of Steve. “Dad, look! We made all this!” 

 

Steve looked around at the other three bookshelves that had already been put together and the small table they had picked out. “Wow, you all really have been at it, huh?” 

 

Bucky nodded, handing Natasha the hammer when she asked for it. “And we get to put all of the toys in tomorrow!” 

 

Steve gave a small smile o himself. Bucky must be feeling just a bit smaller than he realized, but Natasha seemed to have realized that a while ago if the pile of nails and screws by her foot was anything to go by. 

 

“We sure do,” He said, then turned to Natasha. “Bruce’s appointment is tomorrow, right?” 

 

Natasha threw he hair over her shoulder as she straightened out. “Yeah, just in the morning. We’ll be back with plenty of time to go to the park.” 

 

“Sounds like a plan.” The park had been Phil’s idea as a way to get the kids out of the house and meet some people around the neighborhood. Steve was hoping it’d also be a good way to wear off some of Clint and Bucky’s energy. Unpacking didn’t seem to be enough of an outlet and they didn’t have much ready for them to play with. 

 

After dinner, Steve was hit with the realization that his two Littles were going to need a bath before bed, both covered in chili. Steve sent out a silent plea that tonight wouldn’t be too bad and Tony would let Steve wash his hair without too much of a fuss. To Steve’s amazement, Tony seemed rather pliant during bath time, to a point that Steve was almost worried, but Tony seemed to happily play with Bucky and Steve wrapped it up to being paranoid. Tony didn’t fight when Steve picked him up so he could be set in his crib, but that wasn’t too odd. Tony wasn’t really the type to fight sleep and tended to be too worn to do much of anything right before bed. 

 

Steve gave Tony his binky and slowly backed out of the room as Natasha put Bruce to bed. Lying in bed, Steve still couldn’t sleep very well, but he was able to catch a few hours before Bucky was jumping on his bed excitedly, wanting to get a 6am start on putting all of their toys away. 

 

Steve didn’t want Tony around all of the small parts and had to resign himself to leaving Tony in the living room instead. Steve didn’t want to, but it was the safest choice. With Bruce gone, Tony didn’t seem to play with the toys Steve had managed to uncover a few days ago. Every time Steve went in to check on him, Tony would look up with a soloum look. After Bucky had managed to put together the rest of the furniture, Steve crouched down in front of Tony. 

 

“Hey, baby. Having fun?” 

 

Tony nodded his head, clearly lying. 

 

“Missing Bruce, huh?” Steve asked, almost regretting it when Tony’s face fell. “Hey, it’s okay. He’ll be back soon and then we’re all gonna go to the park. Doesn’t that sound nice?” 

 

Tony nodded, shifting in his spot. 

 

“Do you wanna come help us put away some toys?” Steve asked. 

 

Tony nodded, and Steve went to reach for Tony, ready for Tony to slap his hand away. For the first time in almost a week, Tony didn’t fight when Steve picked him up and sat him on his hip. Steve smiled, happy to be able to hold his Little again, even if it was just for a moment. 

 

Tony was helpful during clean up, although he seemed to be a little less coordinated than usual. Steve wondered if he was feeling particularly small but didn’t want to ask. It didn’t seem to be bothering Tony and Steve didn’t want to make him self-conscious in case he didn’t notice. 

 

When they had finally gotten to the park later that afternoon, Steve could feel Tony’s disease, but couldn’t pin-point why. Tony was looking pale but was playing with Bruce and having fun, even when they walked over to the sandpit. Steve couldn’t help the smile on his face at seeing both of his Littles having fun and a bit of that dark numbness from the day before was fading away. It was still there, but for right now, Steve could enjoy a day with his Littles. 

 

And then Tony was braced against his chest, pale and looking scared to death as a man explained that someone had been talking to Tony. Steve had a bad feeling building in his gut, but for right now, he could hold his Little without wiggling or thrashing. It was a feeling that filled his whole heart. 

 

The pair were sweet and joined them for lunch. Peter seemed to be getting on with Bruce, something no one had really expected. Bruce wasn’t big on strangers, but he and Peter were about the same age and both seemed to like the game Bucky and Clint were playing with them. 

 

“You said you were in the military?” Natasha said, pulling Steve back to the conversation. 

 

“Special forces for about seven years, yeah. Had to leave due to injury.” Wade said, pulling back what Steve was just noticing was a wig to show rippled and raw-looking skin. “Had an oxygen tank explode, not a fun experience.” 

 

Steve’s eyes were wide as he said, “Holy lord.” 

 

Wade smiled, setting his wig back in place. “That was a few years ago. Gotta say, I don’t miss it as much as I thought I would.” 

 

Steve huffed in agreement, shifting Tony in his lap as he looked down the table just in time to see Bruce let out a small yawn. 

 

“I think it’s about time for us to get going.” Natasha said as she stood up, collecting plates to be thrown away in a nearby dumpster. “The last thing we need are a couple of over-tired Littles.” 

 

“Agreed.” Wade chuckled, standing up. He reached around to his wallet, pulling out a business card and holding it out to Natasha. “If you even want to plan a play date, just let me know. Peter doesn’t like a lot of people, but him and Bruce seem to be getting along pretty well. 

 

Natasha took the card with a smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

 

Packing up with Tony’s dead weight against his chest made cleaning up a bit of a pain in the ass, and eventually Phil told him to take Bucky back to the car and get them both buckled into the car. Steve took his dismissal and held Bucky’s hand as they walked back to the car. It was slow going, Steve’s arm starting to hurt from Tony’s weight, but they got back to the car and buckled in safely. 

 

Steve started the car, watching I the rear-view mirror as Bucky’s eyes flittered shut. It’d be good for them all to get a nap in, so Steve let him be and hoped it wouldn’t be too hard to get them to bed later that night. Just as Steve was throwing the car into drive, his eyes locked with that of another man in a black Chevy SUV across the parking lot. A bad feeling ran through his gut, but before Steve could act on it, the SUV was driving off in the other direction. 

 

By the time everyone had gotten home, Steve had forgotten about the man and the SUV completely. Bucky managed to walk himself into the house without too much of a fuss but opted to flop onto the floor of the playroom instead of walking up to his room to sleep some more. Steve decided it wasn’t worth the fight to get him to bed, instead walking Tony up the stairs with Natasha not too far behind. Tony wasn’t a light sleeper, per-say, but he seemed unusually exhausted and pliant. 

 

Steve sat Tony on the changing table, pulling off his sand-covered play clothes to gain accesses to his wet diaper. Steve was starting to worry as Tony’s eyes cracked open for a moment but closed right after without putting up any fuss about the diaper change. Steve finished the change, dressing Tony in a simple white onesie and picked him back up so Tony could lay his head on Steve’s shoulder. Steve reached a hand up, feeling at Tony’s forehead with the back of his hand. He felt warm, boarder-line hot, pale skin lined with a thin layer of sweat. 

 

“Hey, ‘Tasha, do you know where the thermometer is?” Steve asked as he turned around. 

 

Natasha had a thoughtful look for a moment before laying Bruce in his crib. “Maybe in the bathroom? Why?” 

 

“Tony just feels warm. I think he may be sick.” Steve said as he walked out of the room and around the corner to the bathroom. He started digging through the medicine cabinet behind the mirror. 

 

“He does feel warm.” Natasha said. 

 

Steve hadn’t noticed she followed him but didn’t care as he found the temple thermometer and clicked it on. He held it to Tony’s head, right next to his eye, waiting for the machine to beep before taking it away. 

 

“Looks like he has a small fever,” Steve sighed, giving Tony a slight squeeze. “I was wondering why he wasn’t looking so good today.” 

 

“Ah, poor thing.” Natasha said, running a hand through Tony’s curls. “I think we have some Tylenol downstairs.” 

 

“I don’t know how we’re going to get him to take it,” Steve sighed. “He won’t drink out of anything we try to hold an I don’t know if he’d be able to drink it alone.” 

 

“Maybe just try the syringe?” Natasha suggested. “I don’t think he’d put up much of a fit about that.” 

 

Steve rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, wondering if Tony not feeling well was what led to the misbehavior. It didn’t seem to match up, but, at the moment, Tony’s behavior was not Steve’s highest priority.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts so far or any ideas you may have for future chapters?


	13. Question: Answered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aight, I’ve had this sitting on the back burner long enough, and y’all have been waiting so patiently so here ya go! New chapter! Hope you enjoy!

Njdcl

“Hey, you’re James Barnes, right?” A woman said, tapping on Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky looked up, confused. A woman with fire red hair stood before him, dressed in a pantsuit that had been firmly pressed, light but amazing makeup, and hair tied into a ponytail without a hair out of place. She was startling beautiful, in the natural kind of way. Bucky could tell she put a lot of thought into her appearance, but clearly out of professional need rather than egotistical preference.

Bucky glance down the isle, looking for Steve. Bucky wasn’t Little at the moment, so Steve had let him walk around the store on his own to pick out two, “and I mean two, Bucky. No more than five dollars for both,” snacks for later.

Bucky nodded, taking the proffered hand.

“I’m Virginia but all my friends call me Pepper.” She smiled softly and Bucky instantly fell in love with it. She was obviously a Caretaker.

“My friends call me Bucky.” 

“Ah, well it’s good to meet you, Bucky.” Pepper smiled again. “I have a question for you.”

Bucky nodded his head ready to listen.

“Do you want a little brother?”

Oh boy, did he ever. Bucky loved Clint and Bruce, and as much as they were family, they weren’t his brothers. Steve has said no a thousand times and Bucky understood why, but he still wished. A lot. He could love and protect someone like Steve loved and protected him. Bucky would always have someone to play with and someone to snuggle with. It’s be so awesome.

“I thought you did.” Pepper smiled. “I know this Little boy who’s in a Center right now who could really use a family like yours.”

Bucky nodded, watching as Pepper pulled something out of her bag.

“There’s not much in his file, but I promise you he’s a good Little. He’d help your family a lot, too.”

Bucky took the file and flipped it open, looking at the single piece of paper. “How do you know that?”

Pepper smiled. “I can’t really say, but just trust I do.”

Bucky nodded, looking back down at the file. When Bucky looked up again, the woman was gone. Bucky stuck the file under his shirt and went to look for Steve.

-.-.-.-

Tony was braced against Steve’s chest as if he was nothing more than a rag doll. His face was flush and still covered in tear tracks from crying. Steve bobbed from foot to foot, running a hand through Tony’s dark curls.

Bucky watched from the doorway, tears almost welling over in his own eyes to see his baby brother so upset. Bucky knew Tony didn’t cry a lot, or ask for hugs, or let anyone hold him, but it had been worse the past few days. With Steve looking so stressed, Bucky wanted to stay Big so there was one less thing to worry about. It was hard because Bucky loved cuddling with his Daddy and having bedtime stories and playing with his cousin, but Steve needed something off his plate.

It seemed that all of Bucky’s hard work was for nothing. His Daddy was still upset and now Tony was sick and nothing was going right and Bucky really wanted a hug. But baby Tony needed his Daddy more than Bucky did, and Bucky had to step back for everyone’s sake. That didn’t mean he wanted to.

Going without all of those things had made him upset the whole time. He wanted baby Tony to get the attention he needed, but now Bucky wasn’t getting any and he missed his daddy...

A putrid sound pulled Bucky way from his thoughts and back to the nursery where Steve now stood, baby puke running down his back and onto the floor. Bucky gagged and stepped back, covering his nose with the neck of his shirt as he went to look for Phil.

Phil was sitting in the dinning room with a bunch of papers laid out around him. A bunch of boring work stuff, Bucky guessed. 

“Baby Tony puked on Daddy.” Bucky said quietly, tapping on Phil’s shoulder

Phil looked up, confusion shifting into concern as Bucky’s words sank in. “Oh no. Bucky, can you find Natasha and let her know that Tony’s still not feeling well whilst I help your daddy clean up?”

Bucky nodded, happy to be of use. He watched Phil go, then ran through the kitchen, into the office, then to the play room where Natasha sat with Bruce at the drawing table.

“Aunt Tasha?” Bucky said as he approached, keeping his voice soft for Bruce’s sake. He wasn’t having a good day and Bucky didn’t want to make it worse.

“What’s up, sweetheart?” Natasha asked.

“Uncle Phil said to tell you that baby Tony’s still sick.” Bucky said.

Natasha’s face fell to concern. “I thought the medicine would have helped by now...”

“He threw up.” Bucky added. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt the need to share. 

“Oh, his tummy must not be feeling well.” Natasha said as she stood up. “Can you sit here with Bruce? He’s just playing a game on his tablet, he should be finishing up here soon.”

Bucky nodded, watching as Natasha stood up and waiting until he heard her footsteps walking up the stairs before he took her spot at the drawing table.

“Hey, Brucie. What’cha playing?”

“Do you regret it?” Bruce asked. His voice was soft as his eyes kept track of whatever was happening on his tablet, but the intent was still there.

“Regret what?”

“Wanting a brother.”

Bucky thought for a moment, looking down at his hands on the colorful plastic table. That was a strong question. He missed having all of his Daddy’s attention, and sometimes he missed sleeping with Daddy more, but he wasn’t sure if he’d miss that more than he’d miss Tony. Bucky liked being a big brother because he got to help someone just like his Daddy had helped him. 

“No, I don’t.” Bucky said. His voice was set because he was sure Tony meant a lot more than a few more minutes with his Daddy.

Bruce looked up, his eyes seeming to examine Bucky down to his very soul. He squinted for a moment, then went to look at his tablet again. “Good.”

Bucky smiles softly. Bruce was very up front with most things he said, but sometimes you had to dig deeper to understand the true meaning. Bruce wasn’t asking if Bucky liked Tony. He was asking if Bucky loved Tony. And Bucky knew he did. Even if Tony took all of Daddy’s attention or all of Bucky’s toys, Buck would still love him. Always.

Natasha walked back into the play room, rubbing Bruce’s back as she crouched down and looked at Bucky. “I think your Daddy and Uncle Phil are going to take Tony to the hospital, but I’ll be here with you all until they get back.”

Bucky’s eyes went wide. The hospital? How sick was his baby brother?!?


	14. Skin: to Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a shorter one today, but I’m sticking to a schedule! Updates on Thursdays!

Name: John Doe 14

Tony still felt lethargic in a way he didn’t think he’d ever felt before. He felt like he was floating in and out of sleep a lot but he couldn’t tell why. He was confused and scared and when he opened his eyes it always seemed to be to harsh light. Tony felt gross and his stomach and head hurt a whole lot, making him so much it hurt. His only solace was the grip he had around someone’s shoulders as they rocked back and forth from foot to foot. 

Tony wasn’t sure who it was, his head in too much of a fog to fully process anything, but he thought it might be Steve. If it was, Tony had already broken his vow to not be a needy or annoying Little. Steve was going to hate him and think he was too much trouble, then Tony’d end up back at the Center. He didn’t want to go back!

Someone jostling him sent a new spike of pain through his stomach, making everything he ate come back up . He wasn’t sure where he had puked, but he knew it was just going to be another annoying thing someone would have to clean up. Why did he have to be like this? If he had been a neutral, none of this would’ve happened. He’d still be in his room at Howard’s, maybe going to school, talking to Pepper and Jarvis as much as he wanted. Just thinking about the two made his heart sink further as he cried more.

He missed them. He hadn’t really thought about them in a while, but he did. A lot. But he’d never see them again.

Steve’s gentle hushes broke through Tony’s thoughts. When he tried to open his eyes a bit more, it was to a darker room. He couldn’t make anything out, but he could feel Steve’s had patting a steady rhythm on his back. It was just soft enough for Tony to feel without aggravating his head ache, a sensation Tony could focus on to ground himself in some way. His nose was still snotty and he had to breathe out of his mouth, but Tony started to drift into what one may consider sleep. 

Tony wasn’t sure how much later he woke up, but he was laying on a bed. His head felt a lot better and his stomach still churned, but not as bad. Tony rubbed at his eyes and looked around the darkened room. It wasn’t his room, he was sure, cause Steve had gotten him a wood crib and he was in a metal one. Plus, there was a sink in the room, which Tony thought was really weird. He looked around more and found a window with shutters that were mostly closed, only small streams of moonlight coming though and casting cool patterns across the floor. Tony smiled in amusement before looking around more. A curtain hung from the ceiling and a lounge chair had been pulled to the side of the crib, though no one was inside.

It was when Tony turned to look behind him that he realized were he was. How he hadn’t noticed sooner, he had no idea. But he was most certainly in a hospital. And he was alone.

Memories of Howard dragging him into the emergency room all those months ago flashed through his mind, one after the other. They kept a asking him questions and got mad when he couldn’t answer, making Tony more scared and less able to speak. When they gave up, he’d been sent to the Center. 

Tony’s breathing picked up, looking frantically around the room. He lifted himself up onto his knees using the bars of his crib and poked his head over. His head was spinning so fast it made him dizzy—or maybe it was the lack of oxygen as the panic set in. Tony had been left again. He had been too much trouble and he’d been left again. Silent tears fell down Tony’s face as he looked towards the door, then the chair, then the floor as he realized that no one would be coming for him.

He had tried to be good, he had! Tony tried so hard to be good! But it hadn’t been enough—Tony was never enough.

He could hear the machines behind him start to beep frantically, which only succeeded in making him more scared. Tony looked down at his hands, finding something clipped to his finger. He pulled it off as if it had been red hot, unable to take the sensation of having it on. When he looked at his left arm, he found a blood pressure cuff and yanked that off too. Just as he was looking for anything else, footsteps came through the door.

Tony’s head snapped up, trying to figure out who it was. At first, all Tony could see was a nurse rushing in, but right behind her was a tall, well-built man with blonde hair. Tony pulled himself up quickly, ignoring the dizziness as he got his feet under himself and reached out his arms.

He had never felt so relieved to see anyone in his life. Tony had tried not to get attached, but he was too Little and too scared to care about the possibility of getting hurt again. His sinus hurt from crying so hard and his face felt puffy and he didn’t feel good but he didn’t care. All he wanted right then was his—

“Da’di!” 

Tony hadn’t eve realized he said anything through his tears, only socked and scared when Steve stopped dead in his tracks. Tony’s panic started to set in again, worried that Steve really was mad and was just saying goodbye before he left forever, but then Steve seemed to rush towards Tony faster, scooping him up in a big hug.

“Daddy’s here, baby. Daddy’s got you.” Steve said, pressing Tony’s head into his chest and rocking lightly. “It’s all gonna be okay.”

Tony wasn’t so sure about that, but he didn’t care. So long as Steve was there, Tony knew he’d be okay. Without even noticing it, Tony had made Steve his world—his home. Him and Bucky and everyone else. He didn’t ever want to leave. He was too attached, to in-love with his... his family! He’d do whatever it takes to stay with them forever, even if it meant having to give up on being Little or Big or his quilt—he didn’t care. He just didn’t want to lose the feeling of Steve’s hugs.

Steve eventually had to turn Tony back around to get the medical equipment back on him, but Tony couldn’t do it. It was too much for him between the pinching and pulling and the beeping and the footsteps and the intercom and—

“Let me try something,” Steve said, adjusting Tony on his hip as the walked towards the sink counter. 

Steve set Tony down—something Tony was not okay with but didn’t protest because he didn’t want to get into any trouble, and lifted his arms when Steve told him to. Suddenly, the rough hospital gown was gone and Tony felt a little less overstimulated. Steve picked him back up and walked over to the lounge chair, sitting down with Tony in his lap. Tony wasn’t sure where from, but Steve suddenly had Tony’s quilt in his hand. Tony wasn’t sure what was going on when Steve took off his shirt, but then Tony was being pressed into a gentle hug against Steve’s chest and the quilt was thrown around his and Steve’s shoulders.

Tony has never experienced anything like it ever before, but being like this made Tony feel safe and loved on a level he’d never had before. The beeping and footsteps and squeekie floor all faded into the background as Tony heard Steve’s heart beat. He pressed his ear closer to Steve’s chest and listened closely to the steady pounding. When the tiny clamp was placed on his finger and the cuff was wrapped back around his arm, Tony didn’t even care. He was halfway asleep when his hand (that he hadn’t even noticed) by his face was moved, pulling his thumb out of his mouth and replacing it with one of Tony’s favorite pacifiers.

**Author's Note:**

> These chapters will be shorter than I normally post, but I’m hoping it may increase the speed at which I do.


End file.
